


The Will of the Force

by emthejedichic



Series: The Will of the Force [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Quest Series - Jude Watson, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Xanatos is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emthejedichic/pseuds/emthejedichic
Summary: While on an undercover mission, Siri meets Xanatos, and they become involved. When Siri’s mission ends, she tries to return to the life of a Jedi. Instead she is forced to choose between the Jedi and the man she has come to love.





	1. Closer To You

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR spoiler alert for Jedi Quest: The Path to Truth, as well as general spoilers for Secrets of the Jedi and various Jedi Apprentice books. 
> 
> This is a revised version of a fic I originally began posting on fanfiction.net under the name an-angel-in-hell, and on LJ under the same name I have here. The entire fic is written and I plan to update every Friday until it’s completely posted.

* * *

 

_There’s trouble down here_

_There’s trouble down there_

_But every day that goes by_

_I swear it’s harder and harder to care_

_I fight the good fight; I do the best I can_

_But man sometimes it’s impossible to_

_Stand where you think you should stand_

_-Jackie Greene_

* * *

(Siri)

 

Krayn doesn’t tell me why we’re leaving Nar Shaddaa. He simply shows up at my door one morning and says, “We’re going to Tatooine.”

 

I nod, grabbing my comlink and blaster, and follow him out to the landing pad. I don’t ask the purpose of the trip. Krayn doesn’t fully trust me yet, even though I’ve been working for him for a year now. The best way for me to earn that trust is to shut up and do what he says.

 

We board Krayn’s private shuttle. He waves toward the pilot’s chair. “Fly us there. Land in Mos Eisley.”

 

I nod again and go to do as he says. I remain focused on the task at hand until I make the jump to hyperspace. Then I allow myself to relax for a moment.

 

Working undercover isn’t what I had thought it would be. I had expected to be able to handle it. I had expected to be completely driven by the righteousness of infiltrating Krayn’s operation. And I am. But I’m also finding that there are things I had failed to anticipate.

 

I remember the first time my loyalty had been tested, about a month after I’d gotten in with Krayn. He and I had gone down to level twelve of the mines on Nar Shaddaa to supervise production. Level twelve has always lagged behind the others, for reasons no one can understand. It makes Krayn livid.

 

There was a slave boy who couldn’t have been more than thirteen struggling with a gravsled that I suspect he didn’t know how to use. I looked around, hoping to be able to knock something over with the Force in order to distract Krayn, but he spotted the child before I could act. He scowled, and told me to make an example of him.

 

“You, boy!” I called.

 

The boy spun around, fear evident in his eyes. I forced myself not to soften my gaze.

 

“Don’t you know how to use that gravsled? No wonder production’s down on this level!”

 

“Shoot him.” Krayn ordered.

 

The boy’s face contorted. He fell to his knees and began pleading with Krayn in Huttese. I don’t speak the language, but I got the idea.

 

I turned to Krayn. “He’s just a kid. We need every worker we can get. What will killing him accomplish?”

 

“He’s a lousy worker, probably more of a hindrance than a help. Shoot him, Zora.”

 

“C’mon Krayn,” I wheedled, putting some Force-assisted persuasion into my voice. “I don’t need to shoot him.”

 

“If you won’t do this for me, Zora, then maybe I can’t trust you after all.”

 

“Look- you can trust me!” I insisted. “I’ll do your dirty work, but killing kids is different!”

 

“It’s only a slave, Zora.”

 

That’s the most difficult part of all this. To Krayn and everyone else in this business, slaves are worthless, expendable. And if I’m going to make it, if I’m going to keep my cover, I have to act as if I feel that way, too.

 

I knew I would never earn Krayn’s trust if I didn’t kill the boy, and I didn’t dare try to push his mind any farther. I knew I couldn’t compromise my mission, but I’m not a murderer. Killing this boy would completely violate the Code I’ve lived by all my life.

 

However… there was a stack of durasteel crates near the lift. Reaching out with the Force, I jerked my hand the tiniest bit, acutely aware of how dangerous it was to do this with everyone watching.

 

It worked. The crates fell to the ground with a tremendous crash.

 

Krayn’s head spun in their direction. “What the-“

 

The boy, taking advantage of Krayn’s distraction, turned and ran. I had hoped for this to happen, although I knew full well there was nowhere for him to go.

 

Krayn turned back to the kid, saw him running, and in the blink of an eye drew his blaster and shot him in the back. The boy fell to the ground, and I felt the unmistakable sensation of a life passing into the Force.

 

I felt sick. The Force had alerted me to what Krayn was going to do, and I could have stopped him… if I’d wanted to blow my cover. I’d had no other choice… had I?

 

Krayn turned to look at me. “Take care of the body,” he said coldly.

 

I shake my head, clearing my mind of the memory. I had done what I judged to be right in the moment. There was no use worrying about it now. _If always dwell on the past you do, prepared for the future you are not._ It was one of Master Yoda’s maxims, and it had been a great comfort to me of late. There had been other times in which I had not been able to deter Krayn, and he soon forced me to prove my dedication to him.

 

I stand and leave the cockpit. Krayn is lounging in a comfortable chair in the main cabin, drinking Corellian whisky. I pour myself a glass and sit down in the chair next to his.

 

“So, what’s on Tatooine?” I ask.

 

“I have some business with Jabba the Hutt.” Krayn says.

 

“Business?”

 

He nods. “Business.”

 

So he isn’t going to tell me. “I see.”

 

“When we get there, I’ll go see Jabba, and you can look around Mos Eisley if you like.”

 

Apparently he doesn’t mean to take me along. “Don’t you think I should go with you? Many go into Jabba’s palace that don’t come out again.”

 

“Jabba the Hutt is my equal, not my superior. He knows the consequences should I come to harm under his roof.”

 

I nod. If Krayn were worried, he would have brought Rashtah along. The Wookiee might not intimidate Jabba, but he would certainly put off most would-be assassins. Still, I’m a little surprised that Krayn doesn’t want anyone there to watch his back and glower at people. Obviously this business is serious, and going alone is a gesture of goodwill.

 

Krayn has left Rashtah behind to supervise the factories. The Wookiee is his trusted and unwaveringly loyal companion. Rumor has it that Krayn had sent assassins after Rashtah shortly after making his acquaintance so that he could publicly save his life and thus earn the Wookiee’s gratitude. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but I wouldn’t put it past Krayn to deliberately incur a Wookiee life debt.

 

The fact that Krayn has left his second-in-command behind is significant. It’s his custom to take Rashtah along on these journeys only if he has a trusted associate to supervise the facility in his absence. He doesn’t trust me to do that yet. I’ll have to work harder.

 

We talk business until the ship comes out of lightspeed. We land in Mos Eisley, and Krayn departs, renting a landspeeder to take him out to Jabba’s palace.

 

Still irritated at having been left behind, I walk into town. Looking around the marketplace, I see the occasional trinket that reminds me of the friends I’ve left behind. A sand painting of a lake, a doll with auburn hair, a sachet of tea.

 

Sometimes I miss the Temple greatly. The lake, tranquil and beautiful, where I’ve spent countless hours swimming with friends. The Room of a Thousand Fountains, calm and peaceful and perfect for meditation.

 

I shake my head. This is no time to get sentimental. This mission won’t last forever. The Council had said three years at the most. I’ll see the Temple again, as well as my friends. I have to believe it. And by the time I get back, I’ll have missed the Order so much that I’ll be happy there for the rest of my life.

 

The suns begin to set, and the vendors in the marketplace start packing up their wares. I’m feeling decidedly hungry, so I decide to check out a local cantina I’ve heard of. It’s supposed to be the best on the planet, despite having somewhat shady clientele.

 

I find the place easily enough. It doesn’t look like anything too special from the outside, and I’m not much more impressed once I enter. It’s filled with nic-i-tan smoke, and a jizz band is wailing in the corner. I walk in behind a group of Rodians, and they stop on the threshold to let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I do no such thing- having noted the dimness on the way in; I’d closed one of my eyes to give it extra time to adjust. I open it once inside, and can see fine. I stroll right in without the slightest hesitation.

 

The cantina is filled with beings of all species, from every walk of life. I blend right in. I know I look fierce and dangerous, at least to the casual observer. My Zora disguise is comprised of animal skins and blast padding, and includes a variety of weapons (my lightsaber is not among them- carrying it is far too risky). My hair is dyed red and kept slicked back from my face with product. Sometimes I feel it’s a bit too elaborate, but it’s the outfit I’d been given to wear at the start of my mission, so there must be some reason behind it.

 

I walk further into the room- and reel at the sensation that sweeps over me. The Force is alerting me to something. I tense and reach for a blaster, but it doesn’t feel like danger. I glance around the cantina.

 

There is a dimly lit booth in the corner, and in the booth there is a man. He has an air of elegance, like he’s better than the scruffy spacers that hang round the bar, and knows it. He’s pale, with shaggy dark hair and shocking blue eyes. He’s looking at me with surprise, and I immediately know that he feels the same thing I do.

 

I feel blown away by the sensations that barrage me when I meet his eyes. Familiarity is the strongest of them, but there’s a sense of complete and total rightness, too- as though I’ve just found something I didn’t know I was searching for.

 

I realize I’m staring and turn away, walking up to the bar. I can sense, without turning around, that the man has gotten up and is walking towards me.

 

“Hello,” he says.

 

I give him a quick glance- _Force;_ he’s even more breathtaking up close. A bit older than he’d seemed from a distance, but he’s aged well. Apart from the streaks of gray at his temples, I doubt his appearance is much different than when he was a young man. As it is, he isn’t _old-_ at most; he’s in his forties. He still somehow manages to be incredibly attractive. I look away, hoping he hasn’t noticed me staring. “Hi,” I say shortly.

 

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?” He speaks in a rich Coruscanti accent. Mine is the same, but I’ve been careful not to use it while undercover.

 

“No thanks,” I reply. I’m not sure why I don’t want to talk to him. My master always did say I was too contrary.

 

“Just one drink,” he presses. “And we can have a talk.”

 

“I’ve nothing to talk to you about.”

 

“I disagree,” he says. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we?"

 

“All right,” I allow. “You can get me a Death in the Afternoon.”

 

He grins. “So you’re a tough one, then?” His comment isn’t surprising- the potency of the drink is well known.

 

I raise an eyebrow. “What tipped you off?” I ask sarcastically.

 

He chuckles, giving me a once-over. “Indeed.”

 

He orders two of the drink, one for each of us.

 

“Sure you can handle it?”

 

“It would make your head spin to know just how much I can handle,” he says seriously.

 

“Ah, modesty,” I say wryly.

 

“And I assure you, I am the most modest man you’ll ever meet. Now, would you care to join me somewhere a bit more private?” he asks, gesturing towards the booth he had previously been occupying.

 

“As long as you don’t try anything,” I warn, walking with him over to the booth. “Else you’ll wind up with a smoking hole in your skull.”

 

He smiles, looking amused. “If you tried that, you would find your blaster flying out of your hand before your finger even touched the trigger.”

 

I frown. “And how would you make that happen?”

 

He gives me a knowing look before he sits down. The booth is semicircular, and instead of sitting on the edge, he slides in towards the middle, inviting me with a gesture to do the same. “Just the same as you would.”

 

I freeze. _Stupid, stupid!_ This is a trap! “Look,” I begin, “I don’t know what you’re-“

 

“Relax,” he says. “I mean you no harm. Now, sit.”

 

I do so, staying on the outside edge of the booth. “How do I know I can trust you?”

 

He sighs, then pulls up the hem of his tunic, revealing a thin utility belt with a few small pouches- and a lightsaber hanging from the left side.

 

My first impulse is relief- but I stop myself from showing it. Yes, the undercover operatives are unorthodox, but they aren’t _this_ unorthodox. If this man is a Jedi working undercover, he would have given me one of the pre-established code phrases- asking me if I’d like to play a game of Pazaak, for instance, or making a reference to the widow’s son _._ “You aren’t a Jedi.”

 

“I was, long ago.”

 

“And this should matter to me why? I don’t know anything about you Jedi, and I don’t care to.” At this point I doubt he’ll buy that, but I have to try.

 

“I thought we were dropping our pretenses. There’s no shame in having left the Order. I did, after all.”

 

He assumes I’ve left. I suppose that’s the best I’m going to do. It’s even exactly what I’ve been instructed to say if I’m ever discovered as a Jedi. I wonder why he’s left the Order- and, for that matter, who he is.“I don’t think I know you.”

 

“You know of me,” he replies.

 

I snort. “What makes you so sure?”

 

He smiles grimly. “Take a closer look.”

 

I study his face. Pale and thin, I can easily see his cheekbones. As a matter of fact…

 

I suck in a breath. There, just below his right eye. A scar in the shape of a circle- except the circle is incomplete. Broken. “Xanatos,” I breathe.

 

He smirks again. “Yes, that’s right.”

 

I narrow my eyes. “I was friends with Obi-Wan Kenobi, _and_ Bant Eerin. Tell me why I should even give you the time of day.”

 

Xanatos laughs. “Well, if you know Kenobi, surely you know that I’m supposed to be dead?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“That was years ago, _before_ Qui-Gon was killed. Yet I did not act against the Jedi during that time. Care to guess why?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Very well then, I shall inform you. When my former master and his padawan had me backed up against that acid pool on Telos, I had no way out. No back door. When I leapt into the pool, I fully believed that I would die. Yet I did not. It was the will of the Force. I was being kept alive for a purpose, and somehow I thought that it was _not_ to kill Qui-Gon Jinn.”

 

“So, you’ve reformed?” I ask, skeptically.

 

“Yes and no. I have left the Jedi Order alone for many years now. I am still the CEO of Offworld Corporations, our direction has not changed-“

 

“Meaning that everything you do is still illegal.” I say with a grin.

 

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. “You do not condemn me for this?”

 

I pause, shocked. I didn’t think of it that way- but it’s true, when he had mentioned his illegal activities, my first reaction was amusement. But I _do_ have to keep my cover, I remind myself. He was able to tell that I was a Jedi, but that’s to be expected, seeing as he’s an ex-Jedi himself. I need to stick to my story.

 

“I left the Order a year ago, and I’m not going to claim that I’ve adhered to Galactic laws since then,” I finally say. It’s not entirely untrue.

 

“I see.” Xanatos says. “Tell me-“ he pauses. “I don’t know your name.”

 

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, _Siri Tachi_ on the tip of my tongue. “Zora,” I say. For the first time the pseudonym feels like a lie.

 

“Tell me, Zora, why did you leave? I’m sure you’ve heard _my_ story, it seems only fair that I hear yours.”

 

“My master,” I say, having committed this little fiction to memory long ago. “Just before I was to take the trials, we had an argument. She ended my apprenticeship without recommending me for the trials. I was so furious, I left the Order.”

 

Xanatos nods. “It seems our circumstances are somewhat similar.”

 

“Only I didn’t kill anyone,” I can’t help but point out.

 

He shrugs. “Qui-Gon killed my father.”

 

I don’t know all the details of Qui-Gon and Xanatos’ last mission, but that’s not going to stop me from arguing. “Qui-Gon killed a corrupt dictator, because he was forced to. It shouldn’t have mattered to you that he was your father.”

 

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you still believe all that rot, Zora.”

 

“I-“ I bite my tongue. “Look, just because it didn’t work out for me being a Jedi doesn’t mean I don’t still have respect for the Order,” I say finally.

 

“You can’t be serious. If you left, it means you have _sense_.”

 

“I won’t deny that much of the Order’s teachings are… over-restrictive,” I say. “But a lot of it makes sense.”

 

He sighs. “Well, you’ve only been out a year. I should think that, with time, you’ll get used to living your own life. And you’ll realize how ridiculous they really are.”

 

“Maybe so,” I reply noncommittally.

 

He changes the subject. “So, Zora, what do you do now?”

 

“I work with Krayn. Mostly I help run his factories on Nar Shaddaa.”

 

Xanatos looks interested. “I thought that Krayn was primarily a slave raider?”

 

“He is, and he sells most of them. The rest, he puts to work.”

 

“Hmm. Is he fair when selling slaves?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, does he give you what you pay for, or does he try to pass off sick weaklings as healthy slaves and feign ignorance when they drop dead days later?”

 

I give him a wry smile. “I wouldn’t be likely to speak ill of my employer, Xanatos. But yes, he gives you good slaves if you pay the price.”

 

“I see. Perhaps I will begin purchasing my workers from Krayn, then. I find Gardulla the Hutt an exceedingly unsatisfactory source.”

 

I snort. “Of course you do! No one in their right mind expects fairness from a Hutt.”

 

“I suppose not,” he agrees.

 

We’re both silent for a moment, sipping our drinks. When the pause stretches out long enough to become awkward, I clear my throat and speak. “Look, when I came in, I felt-“

 

“Drawn to me?”

 

I nod.

 

“Yes, I felt it too.”

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“Well… the Force drew us together.”

 

“I figured that much out, thanks,” I say shortly. “But why?”

 

Xanatos is silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admits.

 

“Well, there has to be a reason,” I argue.

 

“Yes,” he agrees. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

 

“Not… as such,” I admit reluctantly.

 

“I don’t either,” he says.

 

I try to think of what Adi would say, or Yoda or Master Windu. The answer jumps out at me soon enough, but it’s thoroughly unappetizing. “The masters would tell us to meditate on it,” I say wryly.

 

Xanatos snorts in amusement. “That never actually helped me solve anything,” he says.

 

“Nor me, most of the time,” I reply. “In fact, I’m half convinced that it was more to build patience than anything else.”

 

“That makes a great deal of sense,” he says, with a seriousness that throws me off for a moment. I had been half joking.

 

We talk for a while, ordering dinner and continuing our conversation. Despite the fact that they differ from my own, Xanatos expresses many thoughts and interests that I find fascinating. We argue good-naturedly over many of the rules and restrictions of the Jedi Order.

 

“Do you hate the Jedi that much? Truly?” I ask him at one point.

 

“They took me from my homeworld and my family,” he replies. “No one should have that power.”

 

“It’s not like they stole you away,” I reply. Jedi have a bad reputation in some parts of the galaxy. ‘Baby-snatchers’ is what they call us. It’s an attitude I’m not unused to encountering- but getting it from a former Jedi is just _galling._ “Your family chose to give you up.”

 

“They coerced my father into doing it,” he tells me. “He told me, once I was finally able to see him again, that he’d regretted it for years.”

 

“That may be, but you know why he had to do it. A strongly Force-sensitive child _can’t_ just go untrained. It would be dangerous.”

 

He grins at me wolfishly. “I’m not dangerous now?”

 

“I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“It’s not,” he says lowly.

 

I swallow. Over the course of our conversation I’ve slowly moved closer to him- mostly so I could hear clearly, as several groups of patrons in the cantina have been somewhat loud and rowdy. Now I’m suddenly and acutely aware that we are nearly touching.

 

“I don’t think you’re dangerous,” I tell him, moving away a little. “Not anymore.”

 

After dinner we have a few drinks, and it’s with real regret that I look at my timepiece and tell Xanatos that Krayn expects me back at the ship.

 

“Stay,” he tells me. “Krayn doesn’t own you, does he?”

 

“No one owns me,” I say, perhaps a bit more firmly then necessary. “But it’s not worth it to have him angry with me.”

 

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. “I see. Well, I suppose I can walk you back to your ship, at least.”

 

I smile. “Alright.”

 

He pays the tab. I feel a little guilty for enjoying myself so much- I’m on an undercover mission; I’m not supposed to be having fun! But that’s absurd, I tell myself. I’ve made a new contact, that’s all. It’s in the best interest of my mission. I’ve convinced Xanatos to do business with Krayn, and Offworld is rich. This might be the thing I need to win the slaver’s trust.

 

Yes, Xanatos has done some horrible things in the past.I didn’t trust him at first, but he mostly seems to have reformed. He claims to have no ill will against the Order any longer, at any rate. I’ll watch him, make sure he isn’t a threat. It’s in the best interest of my mission.

 

“I had a good time tonight.” Xanatos tells me as we reach the docking bay where Krayn’s shuttle waits.

 

I roll my eyes. “You make it sound as if we just went out on a date.”

 

“Didn’t we?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. “I did buy you dinner.”

 

“I don’t think it counts as a date when we only just met.”

 

“Yes, we did, didn’t we? But somehow, I feel as though I’ve known you for a very long time.”

 

“That was a fairly bad pick-up line,” I say wryly.

 

“It wasn’t a pick-up line.” Xanatos replies seriously, and for some reason I believe him. He means every word. “The Force binds us together, Zora.”

 

I shake my head. Hearing him call me by my code name grounds me, reminds me that he doesn’t really know me. “That’s just a silly romantic notion. The Force doesn’t do things like that.”

 

“Doesn’t it? The Jedi don’t want us to know that it does. They interpret the Force as it best suits them. Anything else is the temptation of the dark side.”

 

“Perhaps that’s what this is,” I reply, forcing my mind to continue thinking rationally, not to simply melt under the power of his gaze.

 

Xanatos steps closer to me. “Do you trust the Force, Zora?”

 

“Yes,” I reply, trying to ignore the funny feeling in my stomach at having him so close to me.

 

“And do you think the Force would lead us astray?” he asks.

 

“The dark side-“

 

“The dark side exists only in our own choices. The fall to the dark side is a conscious one- I should know! Does this _feel_ like the dark side to you, Zora?” His eyes are blazing with intensity.

 

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t know what to think.”

 

He nods. “And if you do come to accept that this is the will of the Force…?”

 

“I’ll let you know.”

 

He smiles. “I’ll be in touch. I need to contact Krayn about some slaves.”

 

There’s a moment of silence. “Well, I need to be going.” I say. “We’re flying back to Nar Shaddaa tonight.”

 

I turn, but he reaches out and takes my arm, stopping me. “Wait.”

 

He takes another step forward, until his body is pressed against mine. I stand still, looking up into his eyes and trying to calm my pounding heart. Xanatos leans down and meet my lips with his. I hesitantly return the kiss, and when his tongue presses gently against my lips, I part them and allow him access.

 

I pull away after a few moments. “I really should be going.”

 

He smiles. “I’ll see you again.” It isn’t a question.

 

I nod. “Yes, I think you will.”


	2. If I Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short. Most of the others will be longer.

* * *

_If I fell in love with you_

_Would you promise to be true_

_And help me understand_

_‘Cause I’ve been in love before_

_And I found that love was more_

_Than just holding hands_

_-The Beatles_

* * *

(Siri)

 

My meeting with Xanatos proves to be very advantageous to my mission. True to his word, Xanatos contacts Krayn, and they manage to come to an agreement that is mutually profitable.

 

Krayn is thrilled, and begins to trust me much more. It seems I’ve finally proved myself. He starts going on raids more often, and trusts me with overseeing the factories for longer periods of time.

 

I haven’t seen Xanatos since that evening on Tatooine, but he’s commed me several times. Krayn finds out about it, and _that_ isn’t a pleasant encounter.

 

“You could have told me that you were dating our client, Zora,” he challenges.

 

“I’m not dating him,” I say with a sigh.

 

Krayn scowls. “You’d better not do anything to upset him. But if you can draw him in further… see that you do.”

 

“Are you telling me to sleep with him just so he’ll keep buying from us?” I ask indignantly.

 

“I’m telling you not to do anything that would cause us to lose this commission.”

 

“I can handle my private life just fine, thanks.” I say brusquely.

 

Later that day, I’m sitting in the guard’s station on level twelve. Ostensibly, I’m meant to be supervising production, but if I go out there and glower at the slaves it makes the guards nervous, causing them to beat the slaves, which decreases production even further. Glowering at the guards produces the same results, so I generally just sit around and make sure they don’t forget I’m here.

 

I’m currently watching a soap on the Holonet. A bright eyed, pretty Twi’lek is just declaring her undying love for some scruffy looking spacer when my comlink signals.

 

I mute the soap and answer. “This is Zora.”

 

“Hello.”

 

I smile, recognizing the voice. “Xanatos.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m at work.”

 

“Ah. Any chance Krayn will let you leave early?”

 

“Maybe. How early?”

 

“In… oh, let’s say, forty-five minutes? Actually, better make it an hour.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, I’m on Nal Hutta right now. I’m here on business, and I thought I’d drop by and see you.”

 

Nar Shaddaa is the moon of Nal Hutta, and it doesn’t take long to get from one to the other.

 

I smile. “I’d like that.”

 

Meanwhile, the spacer is saying something angrily, probably making a reference to how he’s afraid to love again after his last wife’s death, in a tragic accident that he could have prevented.

 

“So, when do you get off?”

 

“Uh… three more hours.”

 

He makes a tsking noise. “Won’t do. I’m starved. I want to eat as soon as I get there, and I want _you_ to have dinner with me.”

 

“I have to supervise production,” I say.

 

“Will Krayn not let you leave?”

 

I consider. I know I shouldn’t go out with Xanatos- I’m too close to getting emotionally involved as it is. But Krayn may actually let me go, I realize as I remember what he had said to me earlier. He wants me to ‘draw Xanatos in’. Maybe this dinner date can actually help me with my mission. “I’ll ask him,” I say.

 

“Good.” Xanatos says, sounding pleased. “Where do you want to meet?”

 

“How about the Nag’s Head? It’s a restaurant just off the main drag; you can’t miss it, they’ve got this big holoscreen sign. And they usually have some pretty good bands playing.”

 

“Sounds good,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

 

Xanatos cuts off the transmission. On the soap, the spacer has finally broken down and taken the Twi’lek in his arms, kissing her. At that moment, however, the door slides open and a tall Quermian walks in. The Quermian is the Twi’lek’s adoptive son, I remember, who despises the spacer because he had caused the death of his biological parents. The Twi’lek doesn’t know this, however, and the Quermian is just about to reveal everything…

 

I turn off the soap. “As though my real life doesn’t have enough drama,” I mutter.

* * *

Despite his earlier admonitions, it takes a little persuasion to get Krayn to let me go. He does finally agree, though by that time I have to leave right away to meet Xanatos.

 

The Nag’s Head is an upscale nerfburger joint, and it’s crowded tonight. Working for Krayn gives me some clout, though, and when I give my name to the hostess she takes me to a table right away despite the dozen or so beings waiting to be seated.

 

I’m sipping a drink when Xanatos arrives.

 

“Krayn let you leave, then?” he says as he sits opposite me.

 

I nod. “Yeah. It wasn’t easy to convince him, though. Production on level twelve increases when there’s a supervisor. I keep telling him to put more workers on, but he won’t.”

 

“Of course not.” Xanatos replies. “It sends the wrong message to the slaves if _you_ pick up _their_ slack.”

 

“I never thought of it that way.” I say.

 

“A firm hand is needed with them. I don’t deal with the slaves directly, but there was a time when I did.”

 

I smile wryly. “Of course you don’t. You’re the rich, powerful CEO, correct?”

 

He smiles. “Precisely.”

 

“So what does the rich, powerful CEO _do_ all day long, then?”

 

“Well, lately he’s been rather preoccupied with a certain young lady…” he teases.

 

I snort. _“Please._ I am hardly a lady.”

 

“If you were, I doubt I’d be interested.”

 

I smile. “Now, Xanatos. Surely a figure of intrigue and mystery such as yourself can flirt better than _that?_ You sound like the initiates in the ‘saber class I helped out with a few years ago.”

 

He feigns a hurt expression. “Are you saying that I flirt like an adolescent?”

 

“Maybe,” I say, smiling coyly.

 

He gives me a mischievous look. “I assure you, I am quite accomplished in other areas. Perhaps you would like me to show you?”

 

I smirk. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

 

This is what I needed- just to be able to sit and talk with someone who cares about me. It‘s nice to be able to stop thinking about my mission for a while.

 

With a sinking feeling, I suddenly realize that I haven’t acted the part with Xanatos. I haven’t endangered my mission, but I have been acting far more like my true self than the identity I’ve assumed. Perhaps I’ve been so careless because I don’t have an objective in my dealings with Xanatos. I honestly enjoy his company.

 

But clearly, this is more than just friendship, I realize. My heart sinks even further. This is _attachment_ , or at least that’s what it’s well on its way to becoming. And attachment is forbidden.

 

“Zora?”

 

I blink. “Sorry. I just… I’m a little tired,” I say.

 

I have to end this relationship, before things get any worse. I could feign an important comm from Krayn, say I have to go back to work- but I get the feeling Xanatos would see through that. The best thing to do would be to cut off contact gradually, make it look like I’ve simply lost interest.

 

We stay at the table for a while. After we finish dinner, we order drinks and talk. My heart isn’t really in it, though- my earlier thoughts have successfully put a damper on my good mood. 

 

When we finally leave, Xanatos walks me to where I’ve parked my speeder. 

 

“The night doesn’t have to end here, you know,” he says. “I was going to find a hotel- you could come with me, if you like.”

 

I shake my head. “I need to get back.”

 

“You said you didn’t have to go back to work until the morning,” he points out.

 

“No,” I admit. “I don’t. I just-“

 

“You just don’t want to sleep with me,” Xanatos says, not unkindly.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I admit. “It’s more that I shouldn’t.”

 

“Why not?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Because… I don’t want to lead you on,” I say. “I like you, but I need to focus on my work. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

 

“I don’t have time for one either. And yet, here I am.”

 

“I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for us to- to date, or whatever this is we’re doing.”

 

“And why not?” Xanatos asks evenly.

 

I shake my head. “It just won’t work.”

 

“What makes you so certain?”

 

“I just know. It won’t last.” Eventually my mission will end, and I’ll return to the Temple. I can’t afford to be distracted in the meantime.

 

He moves closer to me. “Does it have to last? If we are doomed in the end, shouldn’t we attempt to cheat fate as long as possible?”

 

“There is no fate,” I reply without thinking. “There is only the Force.”

 

Xanatos smiles. “And this is the will of the Force, ” he says patiently.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“It was the Force that brought us together,” he reminds me.

 

I shake my head wordlessly.

 

“You deny that that’s what happened? We talked about this- the Force was what drew us together that night in the cantina.”

 

“Yes, but-“ I sigh in frustration. “This is just a bad idea.”

 

“You don’t want to be involved with me?” Xanatos asks.

 

“No, I don’t,” I say, not meeting his eyes.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I say angrily. “I don’t want to be with you!”

 

Xanatos gives me a searching look. “No,” he murmurs. “That’s not it, is it? You’re afraid to be involved with me.”

 

My heart starts pounding. He’s right. I hadn’t even realized it until this moment, but he’s right. I _am_ afraid.

 

I refuse to show it, though, so I scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

 

“Why, Zora?” he asks gently. “Why are you afraid?”

 

_Because I’m lying to you about who I am, and you’re going to hate me for it. Because the last time that I fell in love-_

 

I quickly slam the brakes on that thought. _I don’t think about that,_ I remind myself.

 

Xanatos is still waiting for an answer. I decide the best course of action is to deflect. “Why do _you_ care so much?”

 

Emotion flickers in his eyes for a moment before his usual calm mask returns. “I just do,” he replies.

 

I snort. “Well, that’s your problem,” I tell him.

 

Then I turn and walk away.

 

“Zora, wait. Zora!”

 

I don’t listen to him. I go to my speeder, starting the engine and quickly speeding out onto the road. I drive swiftly away.

 

Eventually I reach Krayn’s compound. I park near the residential buildings, but I don’t leave the speeder.

 

I’m filled with a swirl of emotions, the strongest of which is regret about what I’ve just done. I tell myself that it was the right thing to do, but that thought provides little comfort.

 

I wonder if I’m also feeling regret for the past. This relationship with Xanatos seems to have dredged up old memories, which I cannot allow myself to dwell on. I made a promise, after all- a promise to forget.

 

I heave a sigh. This night has really taken it out of me. Wearily, I exit my speeder, heading to my quarters, and to bed.

 

I dream first of the days I’ve pledged to forget, then of Xanatos and what might have been.


	3. Supersede

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for Jedi Apprentice #7: The Captive Temple, as well as Secrets of the Jedi.

* * *

 

_Well the heat down here is brutal, it’s hard to do what’s right_

_The locals shout you won’t burn out if you don’t ever shine too bright_

_And I wish I was in your back pocket or in your arms tonight_

_I wish that I was loud so you could hear me_

_-Jackie Greene_

* * *

(Siri)

 

I don’t hear from Xanatos after that night. He doesn’t comm me, and I lack the courage to contact him. I know that if I do, I’ll have to explain myself- and in order to do that, I’ll have to visit a part of my past I’ve made myself forget.

 

But I have a more immediate dilemma at hand. I’m supposed to send a written report to the Jedi Council every standard month, and I haven’t sent this month’s yet.

 

I don’t want to tell them about Xanatos. The relationship we had is hardly relevant to my mission, after all. And although it can’t be denied that he’s a criminal, I doubt he’ll attack the Order again. Telling the Council he’s alive would be the right thing to do, but they don’t strictly _need_ to know, do they?

 

I know what will happen to Xanatos if the Council does become aware of him- he’ll be hunted down, arrested, and taken back to Coruscant for trial. He tried to destroy the Jedi Order, as well as ruining who knows how many worlds with Offworld’s destructive mining practices. There’s probably more than enough evidence to put him away for life.

 

The thought makes my heart ache, and I realize that I can’t do that to him. I know it’s the right thing to do. I know it’s my duty. Maybe I’m a coward. Maybe I’m just confused.

 

Either way, I make no mention of Xanatos in my report to the Jedi Council.

* * *

A week later, Offworld’s shipment of slaves is ready for pick-up. Xanatos will be coming personally to take them back to his company’s mines. I hope I can avoid seeing him, but shortly before Xanatos is scheduled to arrive, Krayn informs me that he has to go off-planet.

 

“Where the hell are you going?” I ask.

 

“Down to Nal Hutta,” he says, scowling.

 

“What for?” I demand. “You said yourself that Xanatos was an important client! What are you taking off for?”

 

“It’s business, can’t be avoided,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. I grimace at him and pull away- I always try to discourage him from touching me, lest he get any ideas- but he’s too preoccupied to notice. “I won’t be back in time. You’ll have to handle the transaction.”

 

I don’t like that idea at all. “Make Rashtah do it!”

 

“I’m taking him with me. You’re gonna handle it.”

 

“Can’t you get someone else?”

 

He looks at me shrewdly. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Zora? I thought that the two of you were seeing each other.”

 

“Well, we aren’t.” I say flatly.

 

He laughs. “So that’s it! He dumped you!”

 

“No, he didn’t,” I say.

 

“So you called it off?” I start to deny it, but Krayn ignores me. “Zora, I told you not to do anything that would upset him! Now you’ll handle this transaction, and I better not hear that anything goes wrong.”

 

Krayn stalks off, and I groan. “Perfect,” I mutter.

 

Xanatos arrives less than an hour later. I greet him at the landing pad.

 

He looks surprised to see me. “Zora.”

 

I give him a brief nod. “Xanatos.”

 

There’s an awkward silence. Seeing him again isn’t easy. I’m still feeling regret, and my common sense- which would typically remind me that I had done the right thing- is unusually quiet.

 

“C’mon,” I say finally. “I’ll show you the shipment.”

 

We take the turbolift down to the ‘cargo hold’ where ‘the shipment’ is being kept. I lead Xanatos over to a set of large cells filled with slaves. “All these are yours. Two hundred and fifty.”

 

I watch as he inspects the unfortunate beings. I know that the arrangement should bother me, but I’ve become somewhat desensitized to this business. It’s appalling, yes, but being appalled is a good way to get caught.

 

_Still, though,_ I tell myself. _Think of all the illegal activities Offworld is involved in. That’s a good reason not to get involved with him, right?_

 

It’s after I have this thought that I realize- I’m grasping at straws, looking for any reason _not_ to become involved with Xanatos. I’d thought I could end things before they got to this point, but when I think about it, I realize that I’m just running from my fears. That isn’t right- isn’t a Jedi supposed to _overcome_ their fears?

 

Xanatos turns to me. “They’ll do nicely,” he says, gesturing to the holding cells.

 

I nod. “Shall I have the guards transport them to your ship now?”

 

“Yes, that would be excellent,” he says. “I’ve got staff onboard who can assist them.”

 

I motion the cargo supervisor over and give him instructions to take the slaves to Xanatos’ ship. After I finish giving him his orders, I turn back to Xanatos.

 

“Right, so you paid fifty percent up front…”

 

“Here’s the rest,” he says, handing me a credit chip.

 

I stuff it into my pocket without verifying the amount. Krayn will be livid if the total is incorrect, but at the moment I don’t care.

 

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

 

“No, there isn’t,” he says shortly.

 

He’s angry with me. Well, he has every right to be. 

 

“Look…” I take a breath. Time to stop running from my fears. “I’m sorry for the way things turned out last time we saw each other. I’d like to explain.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Alright, then. Explain.”

 

I lower my voice. “Not here. Krayn has eyes and ears. We need to go somewhere private.”

 

Without another word, I stride away towards the exit. We don’t speak as we walk to the residential building where my quarters are located. We enter my room, and Xanatos looks around. He smirks, realizing where we are, but says nothing.

 

My quarters are small and simple- one room with a sleepcouch in the middle and computer console in the corner. A window on the far wall looks out onto the polluted city. I could probably convince Krayn to give me a nicer room, but I spend so little time here that it really isn’t an issue. Besides, I don’t need any more than this.

 

I cross the room to sit at the computer console. I quickly enter the security system via a backdoor I’d left myself months ago and disable the sleeper bug Krayn has planted in my room.

 

“There.” I say. “Now we can talk freely.”

 

Xanatos nods, understanding. “Surveillance?”

 

“It only records if certain words pop up in conversation. Any mention of the Jedi would be sure to trigger it.”

 

“Krayn has a grudge against them?”

 

I nod. “They’ve gotten in the way of some of his operations in the past,” I say, purposefully choosing not to elaborate. This is, after all, dangerous ground to tread on, although my mission isn’t to get in the way. I’m only here to feed information back to the Council.

 

“So he doesn’t know that you were in the Order?”

 

I snort. “Of course not.”

 

“I see.” He’s silent for a moment, waiting for me to speak.

 

“Xanatos, I’m sorry for my behavior when we last saw each other,” I say, taking a deep breath. “You were right. I am afraid to get involved with you.”

 

He sighs. “And why is that?” His tone is uninterested, but I get the feeling it’s an act.

 

“That actually requires somewhat of an explanation,” I tell him, moving to sit on my sleepcouch.“Here, sit down.”

 

He sits at the computer terminal, turning the chair so it faces me.

 

I take a deep breath. I’ve been trying to forget this for so long. I know now that that was the wrong thing to do. I should have dealt with these feelings years ago. “When I was sixteen, my master and I were sent on a mission with another master/padawan team. The other padawan was a friend of mine, though we hadn’t seen much of each other for a few years. At one point in the mission, we were separated from our masters. During the time we spent together…” I hesitate. If I go on, my promise will be well and truly smashed.

 

And that’s what scares me- dredging up these old memories. I worked so hard to push them down, to bury them deep… can I really undo all of that effort?

 

_I’ve got to,_ I realize. _If I want to overcome my fears._

 

“We fell in love,” I say softly. “The other apprentice and I. And for a few days… it was amazing. We had all these hopes and dreams- we thought we were special, we thought we could somehow convince the Council to accept us…” I shake my head. “Foolish, really- but I guess it was the idealism of youth.”

 

Xanatos looks at me silently, his expression an impassive mask. For the first time, it occurs to me that he may hear everything I have to say, laugh, and walk away.

 

_Even if he does… I have to do this. For my own sake._

 

“In the end, we had to accept that love wasn’t enough to conquer everything,” I went on a trifle bitterly. “For teenagers, that’s not easy.

 

“When we returned to the Temple… I think he got a talking-to from his master, and from Yoda. After that he told me what, deep down, I already knew- we couldn’t be together. It wasn’t the Jedi way.”

 

Xanatos snorts a bit at that.

 

I shrug. “I was sixteen. You know what it’s like, growing up in the Temple.”

 

“Yes,” he says, voice hard. “I know what it’s like. All that pressure to be perfect, to uphold the Jedi ideals.”

 

“That was what I wanted,” I admit. “More than anything.”

 

Xanatos merely nods, eyes far away. “What did you do?” he asks after a brief moment. “When the two of you acknowledged that you couldn’t have a relationship?”

 

“I told him we had to act like it had never happened,” I say. “That was nine years ago, and we’ve hardly spoken since.”

 

Neither one of us spoke for a moment. I’d expected that recounting this would upset me, but it hasn’t. I feel strangely empty inside.

 

“So you’re afraid to get involved with me because of that?”

 

“Yes. I’m afraid to fall in love again,” I admit quietly.

 

“For fear that you’ll be hurt as you were then?”

 

I nod. “I never really dealt with the pain. I was too busy pretending it hadn’t happened,” I say with a sad smile.

 

Xanatos nods. “This other padawan,” he said. “Is it anyone I might have known?”

 

I inwardly wince. Telling the truth, telling him it had been Obi-Wan Kenobi I’d fallen in love with, does _not_ seem like a good idea.

 

“I highly doubt it,” I say. “He and I would have still been in the creche when you left the Order.”

 

“True,” he says. “But I did observe Kenobi and his little friends briefly.”

 

I don’t say anything. Today seems to be a day for reliving past memories. Obi-Wan and I used to be close, and Xanatos had tried more than once to kill him.

 

“That was a very dark time for me,” he says as if he knows what I’m thinking. “I did many things of which I am not proud.”

 

It’s not an apology. But it’s probably the closest thing to it I’m going to get. “Can I ask you something?”

 

He nods. “Very well.”

 

“You were going to blow up the Temple. What if you’d been caught inside? How did you know you could get away?”

 

He sighs. “I planned everything out. It was risky, but… well; I _did_ get away in time. Had I been trapped inside, though… as I said, it was a dark time for me. I considered my own death a small price to pay for revenge.”

 

I take a moment to digest this. “What’s the point of revenge if you’re dead?”

 

He smiles. “Well, yes. In hindsight that’s the obvious question. But… I was so angry back then. Caught up in something akin to idealism. You know… taking your enemy down with you, all that rot. Besides, then I couldn’t have been tried for my crimes. A very compelling advantage of being dead,” he adds with a grin.

 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

 

“Now may I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Had I succeeded in destroying the Temple… would you be here now?”

 

I shake my head. “That was a few months before I was apprenticed. I was still an initiate then.”

 

“Then I regret my actions even more,” he says solemnly.

 

I’m not quite sure what to say to that. “I really am sorry for getting angry before.”

 

“I know,” Xanatos says.

 

He moves to sit next to me on the sleepcouch, putting his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder. I feel… safe. Like I can trust him.

 

But is pursuing this relationship really the best thing to do? I have everything to lose. I’m lying to him- if Xanatos ever finds out that I haven’t left the Order after all, he may never forgive me. And if the Council ever finds out about this, I’ll be in very serious trouble.

 

But I can’t resist any longer. While I don’t fully understand my feelings, I do know that I feel drawn to Xanatos in a way that I’ve never experienced before. Besides, the Council never has to know.

 

I turn my head in order to catch his lips with mine. It’s a sweet, slow kiss at first, but soon it grows more passionate.

 

When we finally break for air, he’s looking at me with such intensity that it takes my breath away- for in that moment; it feels like the Force itself is a tangible thing between us.

 

“Why is this happening?” I ask. “I mean, why us?”

 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But… I trust the Force.”

 

I smile. “So do I.”

 

He takes me to dinner, and afterwards, to a small tucked-away bar. It’s filled with nic-i-tan smoke and there’s a band playing. I’m reminded of the cantina in Mos Eisely and smile at Xanatos. He smiles back, and I know he’s having the same thought.

 

We drink and talk for a couple of hours. I drink a little too much- I’m not drunk, but I’m feeling decidedly on the tipsy side as we step outside the bar late in the evening. Everything seems hilarious.

 

“You’re drunk.” Xanatos informs me as we walk down the street to the lot where we’d parked my speeder.

 

I giggle. “No I’m not! Not yet.”

 

“Didn’t you ever take that class on how to purge toxins from your system? I seem to recall that it was mandatory when I was a padawan.”

 

I laugh again. “Yeah…” I drawl. “I took the class. Passed with top marks.”

 

“Then why are you drunk?” he asks, looking more amused than anything else.

 

“I’m not _drunk_ ,” I explain through my laughter. “A little _tipsy_ , maybe-“

 

“You’re drunk,” he says firmly. “You should cleanse your system.”

 

I sigh. “But Xan… this is _fun._ ”

 

He raises an eyebrow at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it. “So are you going to make me baby-sit you for the rest of the night, then?”

 

“I never said you had to baby-sit me!” I protest.

 

He looks amused. “Yes, but we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, now would we?”

 

“I’m not going to- ack!”

 

Xanatos eyes me from my new position on the ground. “I shall try very hard not to say I told you so.”

 

“That curb came out of nowhere,” I grouse as he helps me up.

 

“Perhaps, but I think I’ve made my point, don’t you?”

 

“Very well,” I reply sourly.

 

I take a deep breath, reaching out for the Force. I don’t make the connection right away, so maybe I’m worse off than I’d thought. When I do manage it though, the link is strong and true. I intensify my awareness of myself, until I can feel my heartbeat, each breath I take, the blood racing through my veins. Focusing on the alcohol in my system, I encourage my body to speed up its natural elimination process… there. That does it. “There we go,” I say.

 

Xanatos smiles, looking amused. “Welcome back.”

 

I wince, a bit embarrassed by my previous behavior.

 

We’ve reached the lot by then, and we both try to remember where we parked the speeder.

 

“Here it is,” I say.

 

Xanatos takes the driver’s seat before I can offer, and we talk and laugh the whole way back to Krayn’s compound.

 

Xanatos parks in front of the building that houses my quarters, and it’s with real regret that I say goodnight.

 

“Are you staying onplanet?” I ask.

 

He shakes his head. “I have to get back to Prynnash. We’re behind schedule as it is, and my VP… can’t really run things without me.”

 

Prynnash is, I know, the location of Offworld. They have several bases in the Prynnash system, which is small and has little native life. Xanatos lives at the main base on Prynnash V, but I’ve never heard him call the place home.

 

“Alright,” I say, somewhat relieved despite myself. I’d been trying to decide whether or not to invite him up to my quarters; now the decision has been made for me. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

I kiss him goodbye and head towards my room. _We really aren’t so different,_ I think. _I certainly don’t think of_ this _as my home._ But of course I wouldn’t. I have the Temple.

 

“Even if nobody knows it,” I mutter as I enter the building.

 

I freeze as I hear movement behind me. Turning around, I see Rashtah standing in the shadows near the door. The razor-sharp bits of metal braided into his hair glint as he steps into the light.

 

“What are you doing here?” I snap, resentful at having been caught unawares. Not only that, but I’d been talking to myself- never a good habit for a Jedi, and a potentially disastrous one for an undercover operative.

 

Rashtah’s reply is, as always, unintelligible. I sigh. “Hold on,” I say, taking out my commlink and activating the translator function. “What did you say?”

 

_Turns out Krayn can handle everything on his own,_ he says. _He sent me back to keep an eye on things._

 

“I can keep an eye on things,” I reply sharply.

 

_Apparently not._

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

_Krayn leaves you in charge and the first thing you do is go on a date. I’m surprised you’re even back tonight._

 

“I do take my job _that_ seriously.”

 

Rashtah grunts. The comm doesn’t translate, and I hope it was merely a grunt- the translator function doesn’t always pick up nonstandard words such as insults and swears.

 

“So is there a reason you’ve all but ambushed me?” I ask.

 

_Like I said, Krayn told me to keep an eye on things,_ he says.

 

“That doesn’t mean me,” I protest, hoping I’m right.

 

_Doesn’t it?_

 

I roll my eyes. “Fine, spy if you want to. I’m going to bed.”


	4. Love They Say

* * *

 

_You don’t need to wonder if love will make us stronger_

_There’s nothing love can’t do_

_Love, they say this_

_You don’t need to worry, this love will make us worthy_

_There’s nothing love can’t do_

_-Teagan and Sara_

* * *

(Siri)

 

Xanatos and I talk almost every day for the next few weeks, and I find myself thinking about him more often than not. This, unfortunately, causes problems. Krayn makes it clear that he has no patience for my distraction, and I find myself all but jumping through hoops to get back into his good graces. I try pointing out that he himself had initially encouraged me to become involved with Xan. This proves to be a bad idea.

 

“Yes, I did,” he admits. “But I didn’t know that _you_ had feelings for _him._ ”

 

“I don’t!” I tell him.

 

Krayn fixes me with a condescending look. “Wake up, Zora. You’re useless to me like this.”

 

He stalks off, and I groan. This is _not_ the way that things are supposed to turn out. I’m supposed to become invaluable to Krayn. He’s supposed to _trust_ me. I’ve been more focused on myself lately, and on Xanatos, than on my mission.

 

That stops now, I tell myself. I won’t neglect my mission any longer. I throw myself into my work, gathering every scrap of information that I can and sending detailed reports to the Council. I also work tirelessly on increasing production in the mines, especially on level twelve. Krayn even grudgingly compliments me for my renewed dedication. The slaves aren’t getting treated any better than ever, but I hope that my mission’s ultimate results will force the Senate to shut Krayn down, causing the slaves to be freed.

 

Krayn may be happy with me, but Rashtah isn’t, and lets me know as much one day.

 

_A bit inconsistent, aren’t we Zora? Are you feeling guilty for your previous distraction?_

 

“My social life is none of your business,” I respond tartly.

 

_Your social life is proving detrimental to your job._

 

“I’ve been a model employee!”

 

_As of late._

 

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

_As I said, you’re inconsistent. Krayn needs someone he can depend on._

 

“Oh, so that’s it,” I realize, surprised that I haven’t seen it before. Then again, the fact that I don’t speak Shyriiwook makes it impossible for me to pick up any inflections that might be in Rashtah’s tone. “You’re jealous. You’re afraid I’ll replace you as Krayn’s second in command.”

 

_Of course not._

 

“Well, you can rest easy. I’m not really interested in doing that.”

 

He glares at me. _I don’t trust you Zora. I’ll be waiting for you to make a mistake. There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?_

 

I smile grimly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

I wonder if he would stab me in the back, given the chance. It seems likely. I suppose that’s yet another thing for me to watch out for.

* * *

After a couple of weeks, I feel confident that I’ve regained Krayn’s trust and respect. I still comm Xanatos when I have the time, and he seems pleased when I tell him this.

 

“Really, though,” he remarks one day. “Why does Krayn’s opinion matter so much to you?”

 

“Well, I don’t want to get fired.”

 

“Well, if you do… you could always come work for me.”

 

“But… I don’t know anything about the kind of mining you do.”

 

“How much did you know about the slave trade when you started working for Krayn?” Xanatos asks. “You’d learn.”

 

“Well, I’m not planning to get fired, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” I ask lightly.

 

“No, I suppose not. That is - you could come work for me anyway.”

 

I allow myself to daydream for a moment. I’d live on Prynnash with Xanatos, who I’d be able to see everyday…

 

But it’s a daydream only. It will never happen.

 

“Sorry,” I say. “I’ve got a good thing going here.”

 

“Alright,” he says, sounding resigned. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

 

I quickly change the subject, asking him how things are going with Offworld.

 

He sighs. “It’s alright. Like I said, my VP is… a bit incompetent. He’s got the potential, and the dedication, but doesn’t apply himself. It’s rather frustrating, actually.”

 

This piques my curiosity. From what I can tell, Xanatos has little to no patience for beings that fail to live up to his standards- especially where his company is concerned. “It’s good of you to keep him on anyway.”

 

“I don’t exactly have a choice.”

 

“Oh? Why not?”

 

“Well, because… he’s my son.”

 

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting _that_. “I, ah… didn’t know you had children.”

 

“Just the one.”

 

I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. “Is… his mother...?”

 

“No, no, she’s- well, actually, she’s dead now,” Xanatos replies quickly. “But we were never- it was just one night. I was a still a padawan- only sixteen.”

 

“Wow. So, what, did she manage to track you down?”

 

“She did. I told her there wasn’t much I could do to help her out, and we had little contact after that until I left the Order. Once I’d established myself, I set her and Granta up on a little out-of-the-way moon, provided for them and such.”

 

“So… your son, is he Force-sensitive?” I ask curiously.

 

Xanatos pauses for a moment. “No, he isn’t,” he says. His tone sounds strained, terse.

 

“Oh,” I say. I’m surprised- I know that if even only one parent is Force-sensitive, the child is almost certain to be. And with someone as strong in the Force as Xanatos- whose high Force-sensitivity had impressed the Council enough to allow him to begin training at the late age of three- I would think that it was certain. I’d have asked about it- but his tone of voice reminds me that it isn’t _actually_ any of my business. “I see.”

 

“Granta has a good head for business, though,” Xanatos continues after a moment. “He’s just under-confident. He’ll learn.”

 

This last statement is delivered with confidence- no, with certainty. I’m suddenly reminded of a mission that my master and I had gone on when I was twelve. We’d been sent to guard a politician on an obscure Mid-Rim world who had been threatened by an unknown rival. At first threats had been the worst of it, but eventually there was an attempt made on his life. That was when we’d been sent in.

 

After three more assassination attempts, we’d finally traced the attacks back to his teenaged son. Adi had had me guard the young man until she could ascertain which of the politician’s guards were loyal, and not on the son’s payroll.

 

The boy, N’lor, had been very angry when he was found out, and having a girl five years his junior guarding him only added insult to injury. He’d yelled and raged at me for a while, and I’d soon abandoned my Jedi calm (far from perfect these days, it had been disgraceful when I was twelve) and shouted back. It was a few minutes before we fell silent.

 

“I wasn’t even trying to kill him, not really,” he’d finally said sullenly. “The assassins had orders to wound only.”

 

“Well, maybe you’ll avoid an attempted murder charge, then,” I replied acerbically.

 

N’lor hadn’t responded to that; he’d only stared at his bound hands in silence. He had been in a prison cell at the time, and my presence as guard had mostly been superfluous- in fact; I had felt a bit wounded when my master had ordered me to stay behind.

 

But I’d felt a pang of sympathy for him at that moment. I could feel the hurt and despair radiating off him, beneath his self-loathing. I approached the cell until I stood as near as I could to the energy bars.

 

“N’lor?” I’d asked softly. “Why did you do it?”

 

“I had to,” he replied just as quietly. “It was the only way to make him understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

“Understand that I’m my own person! He- he just assumes that I’m going to be like him, be exactly like him, when I’m older. He won’t even entertain the thought of any other possibility! He’s raising me and teaching me by _his_ rules, _his_ ideals, and he can’t see that that’s not what I want! Although,” he added with a snort. “You’re a Jedi, so… I guess all that sounds perfectly natural to you.”

 

It had, to a certain extent. “He should let you think for yourself, sure,” I allowed. “But- I feel proud, honored, to be a Jedi. You don’t feel the same way about being your father’s son?”

 

He’d shaken his head at me. “You just don’t get it, do you, kid?”

 

Thinking back on the conversation now, I frown. Why has _that_ memory surfaced? Surely Xanatos isn’t anything like N’lor’s father. “I’m… sure you’re right,” I tell him.

 

Maybe Xanatos has picked up on the shift in my mood, because he quickly changes the subject.

 

“So tell me, when was the last time Krayn gave you any time off?”

 

“Time off?” I repeat with a laugh. “I don’t think Krayn believes in time off. It’s a full time job, he says.”

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Xanatos comments.

 

I bristle a bit at this. “It’s not like I can’t handle it.”

 

“Of course you can,” he replies smoothly. “Well, I suppose you like it better than being in the Order, at any rate.”

 

I can’t help it- the irony of this makes me laugh.

 

“What’s so funny?” Xanatos asks, sounding peeved.

 

“Nothing,” I say, sobering. My continued deception really is no laughing matter.

 

“The only reason I asked in the first place,” Xanatos continues. “Was because I was wondering if you could persuade Krayn to give you a few days.”

 

I sigh. “I don’t think I should. You know how it is- this job is pretty competitive. I don’t want to take a few days off and find out that I’ve been slandered and summarily dismissed in my absence.”

 

“Come on. What’s the worst that can happen if you ask him?”

 

“Well… I don’t know- why are you asking, anyway?”

 

“I want to spend some time with you- more time than the odd evening out.”

 

Frowning, I realize that we really have only seen each other twice since the night we met. It hardly seems possible, but there it is. “That would be nice, Xan.” 

 

I’d asked him if he minded my use of the nickname. He’d indifferently replied that he didn’t care, but I suspect that secretly, he likes it.

 

“So, talk to Krayn about it,” he says.

 

I bite my lip. I’ve pretty much exhausted the Xanatos-is-a-valuable-client-and-you-told-me-to-make-him-happy strategy with Krayn. I can get the time, I know. But the concerns I’d cited were real- what if I lost ground? Xan doesn’t know how important this is to me- he thinks it’s just a job. 

 

After all, the better I perform on this mission, the sooner I can go back to the Temple.

 

_And I’ll never see Xanatos again._

 

I freeze. The thought hasn’t occurred to me before, but now that it does… I realize, with a pang, that I don’t _want_ to part from him. I know now, without a doubt, that I’ve become attached. Xanatos has become a huge part of my life.

 

He isn’t more important than my mission. But maybe to me, he’s equally so.

 

I take a deep breath. “Okay,” I reply. “I will.”

* * *

As soon as Xan and I are done talking, I head for Krayn’s office. Upon arrival, I present my thumbprint, retina, and voice for scanning before the door will open. I stroll inside.

 

“You know all that security’s really inconvenient to go through every time, right?” I ask.

 

Krayn barely looks up from his datapad. “Can I help you, Zora?”

 

“Yeah,” I say, leaning against his desk. “I was wondering if I could get some time off.”

 

He frowns. “Zora, this is a full-time job.”

 

“Oh, come on! Surely you can live without me for a few days,” I say with a grin.

 

“Is this about that boyfriend of yours?” Krayn demands, narrowing his eyes.

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say patiently.

 

“Well, what is he, then?” he asks.

 

I hesitate. I’m actually not sure how to classify my relationship with Xan. “That’s my business, isn’t it? Now, about that time?”

 

Krayn sighs. “ _If_ I were to give you some time, how much would you be looking for?”

 

“Two weeks?” I ask casually, knowing he’ll never agree to that much.

 

Sure enough, he scowls. “Absolutely out of the question. Three days, at the most.”

 

“Five days, then,” I suggest.

 

He shakes his head. “Far too long.”

 

“Without pay?” I offer.

 

Krayn visibly reconsiders for a moment, then fixes me with a glare. “Five days,” he says reluctantly. “Without pay.”

 

I grin. “Thank you.”

 

“You’d better let me know when you’re taking it,” he says in a manner that I expect is supposed to be menacing. “And if you say right now, or even tomorrow, I swear I’ll-“

 

“I follow you,” I say. “It’ll be later on in the week, probably. I’ll let you know.”

* * *

I waste no time in comming Xan and telling him I’ve got five days to spend with him. He’s thrilled; I am too. We haven’t had the opportunity to spend too much time together over the course of our relationship- because I can at least admit that much now, that it _is_ a relationship.

 

I know the Council wouldn’t approve, and I don’t even want to think about how much trouble I’ll be in if they find out that I know Xanatos is alive and am keeping it from them. But I’m lying to Xan, too, and how he would react if he found out that I’m still very much a Jedi is another thing I can’t think about. Most of all, I know that I’ll be phenomenally lucky if one or both of these situations don’t come to pass.

 

But although these are huge worries for me, I manage to push them aside most of the time. After all, isn’t a Jedi supposed to live in the moment? And worrying over these things isn’t exactly going to help me with my mission.

 

Xan tells me that he’ll fly to Nar Shaddaa in three days to pick me up. When I ask where we’re going, he won’t say- all he’ll tell me is that it’s a surprise.

 

My feelings for Xan have grown considerably. At first I’d commed him when I thought of it, and had been happy to talk to him when he commed me, but I hadn’t felt the need to talk every day. When we’d argued, and hadn’t spoken for over a week as a result, I had realized that his absence had left an empty spot in my life. We’ve been closer since then, and I now find myself missing him often. Despite the fact that both of us have rather busy schedules, we usually talk at least once a day- often for more than an hour.

 

So when my comm signals on the day before our trip, I half-expect it to be Xan.

 

“Zora,” I say.

 

“Hey, girl!” a chipper female voice says on the other end. “It’s Drida. Can you talk?”

 

Oh. It’s my proxy.

 

Her name isn’t Drida- that’s just her current code name. Her real name is Sandra. A Knight in her late twenties, she’s the covert ops proxy for all of the undercover operatives in this part of the galaxy. As proxy, she serves as a go-between for the operatives and the Council, passing on their reports and concerns, and relaying the Council’s instructions to us. She’s also an emergency contact, so that we won’t have to wait for the Council to send someone all the way from Coruscant in case something goes wrong.

 

I wonder why she’s calling. Probably just to check up. Sandra’s very devoted to her operatives.

 

“If you ever need anything, and I mean _anything_ , don’t hesitate to comm me. Even in the middle of the night, okay?” she’d said when we met. “I know you think you can handle your mission, and I’m sure that you can. But being undercover gets really tough sometimes. As far as the Council’s concerned, I’m here for technical support. But I’m telling you right now, I’m here for moral support, too.”

 

“Hi, Drida,” I reply. “Hang on a minute.”

 

Luckily, I’m currently in the factory’s office building, which I know back to front- especially in regards to surveillance. I duck into a nearby conference room that I know isn’t bugged, and lock the door.

 

“What’s up, Sandra?” I ask promptly. My use of her real name tells her that we can speak freely.

 

“I was wondering how you were doing,” she replies. The cheery voice of Drida is gone, replaced by Sandra’s more serious tone.

 

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ve been making good progress.”

 

“Yes, you’ve been sending a lot of reports to the Council lately,” she observes.

 

What does she want, an explanation of why I’m suddenly performing so well? “Yeah,” I agree. “I have.”

 

Sandra is silent for a moment. “Look, Siri, I know how this goes. It’s tough. You start out all optimistic; convinced you’ll be just great. But then, reality sets in. Eventually you get used to the mission, and then you think you’ve slacked off during all that time when you were just acclimating.”

 

“So… you think I’ve been overcompensating for my perceived failure?” I ask. “Sandra, it’s been over a year. I’m well used to the mission by now. I’ve just been more productive lately. That’s all.”

 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she says.

 

“I’m fine,” I reply.

 

“Fine as in good?”

 

“Fine as in good.”

 

“Well, hang in there,” she advises. “You’re doing very well.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Who knows? Maybe you have a future in covert ops.”

 

I don’t think so, and I start to say it. But then a thought hits me. What if I _do_ go into covert ops? What if I become a proxy like Sandra? The covert ops proxies virtually never go back to the Temple, so I’d be fairly independent. And I could still see Xan, maybe…

 

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I do.”

 

We say our goodbyes, but now I’m distracted. The idea of going into covert ops long-term is an enticing one. I can’t drag this mission out forever, after all. Especially since it’s very probably going to prove vital to my future as a Jedi.

 

I try not to let myself expect it, but the fact of the matter is that senior padawans my age (nearly twenty-six) are usually not sent on these sort of long, exhaustive missions for the good of the galaxy alone. It’s always, _always_ some sort of test or trial for the apprentice involved- a trial that, if passed, almost invariably leads to Knighthood.

 

Of course, I can’t become a proxy if I’m still a padawan. In fact, my master’s numerous ties to Coruscant mean that we frequently remain onplanet… which would make it impossible to keep seeing Xan.

 

If I do well on this mission, I’ll get Knighted, and will be able to go into covert ops. _And maybe, somehow, I can keep seeing him._

 

I stop these thoughts. They’re insidious whispers, far too attractive. My training has taught me to be cautious of such thoughts, has taught me that they’re of the dark side.

 

But that’s not what they feel like at all.

* * *

The next morning I’m waiting out on the platform as Xanatos lands. Last time he arrived in a freighter, but the ship he’s flying now is a luxury yacht. It looks to be _very_ expensive, and I wonder how posh the interior is.

 

The ramp lowers and Xan comes down to meet me. He smiles widely, giving me a quick once-over. I’ve gone without most of my Zora outfit, wearing just a black unisuit and utility belt. My face is clean, and my hair is free of product, back to its natural appearance save for the red dye.

 

Xan greets me with a kiss and an embrace. “I missed you,” he says.

 

“Me too,” I reply. I’m happy, but that happiness is paired with the familiar guilt. _I’m lying to him._

 

“Shall we?” Xanatos asks, picking up the small bag I’ve packed.

 

“Sure,” I say. “Nice ship, by the way.”

 

“Offworld sells to many powerful beings,” he tells me as we board. “The ship was a gift from one of them- a little incentive to do business with her, and not her competitor.”

 

The interior is suitably extravagant, complete with several fairly roomy cabins and a lounge. The cockpit is impressive as well. I check out the computer after we take off, which informs me that the ship is also bristling with weaponry. I raise an eyebrow when I discover this.

 

“I’ve modified it a bit,” Xanatos explains, swiveling the pilot’s chair around to face me at the console. “One can never be too careful.”

 

I smile at him. This is consistent with what Obi-Wan has told me about him, and I say so.

 

He smiles grimly. “I always like to have a back door.”

 

“That’s smart,” I say, turning back to the computer. “Hey, it doesn’t have a cloaking device, does it?” I ask out of sheer curiosity. That would _really_ impress me.

 

“No,” Xan says, sounding distracted. Sure enough, after a moment, he asks, “What was your relationship with Kenobi, exactly?”

 

I slowly turn my chair around to face him. “We… were friends, as padawans,” I say. “It was funny, because we never got along when we were Initiates. But then we went on some missions together, and… he grew on me.”

 

Xanatos looks displeased. I wonder why; then I realize that I’m smiling. I stop, feeling slightly guilty. There’s no reason why I should, though. Xanatos’ past with Obi-Wan has nothing to do with me.

 

“Is friends all you were?” he asks me.

 

I swear mentally. Xan suspects that Obi-Wan is the one I had fallen in love with. I’d lied to him when I’d told him he didn’t know the person I’d had feelings for. I feel a resurgence of guilt.

 

_I have no choice but to lie to him about remaining in the Order_ , I think. _But in this case, there_ is _a choice before me._

 

I take a breath. “No,” I say. “I’m sorry, I lied to you before. Obi-Wan…was the one I fell in love with.”

 

Xanatos purses his lips. “I suspected as much.”

 

This surprises me. “You did?”

 

“I had a feeling,” he says dryly. “I suspected that there was something you weren’t telling me.”

 

“I’m sorry I lied,” I say guiltily. “I didn’t think you’d react well to the truth.”

 

Xan sighs. “Well, I don’t like the thought of it,” he admits. “But, you were young. And I take it that-” Here he pauses delicately. “You have no feelings for him anymore?”

 

“No,” I say. “I loved him once. I had to let go of that love, and I did.”

 

He nods, looking thoughtful. “Then it is in the past. If you are not bothered by my past, I certainly have no right to find issue with yours.”

 

Relief fills me. He’s alright with it. It won’t affect the way he feels about me.

 

Xanatos turns to the navicomputer, but the computer in front of me pings insistently before he gets far. I turn to the screen.

 

“We’re receiving a transmission from Prynnash,” I say.

 

“That’ll be for me, then.”

 

I vacate the chair, and Xan takes my place. I wonder if I should give him some privacy, but since he doesn’t ask me to, I take a seat in the co-pilot’s chair. I haven’t seen much of Xanatos the CEO, and I’m curious.

 

He accepts the transmission and a hologram pops up on the cockpit’s holoprojector.

 

“Go ahead, Granta,” he sighs.

 

My eyebrows raise. It’s his son calling? Now I’m glad I stayed. I study the projection. It’s in holographic shades of blue and white, not color, but the image is clear enough. Granta is tall and slender, pale and dark-haired like his father. His clothing is dark also, and I’m willing to bet he’s dressed in black as Xan always is. The image isn’t detailed, but if he was born when Xanatos was sixteen he can’t be too much younger than I am.

 

“There’s a problem with the Hutt’s loan,” Granta says.

 

“What kind of problem?”

 

“I’m not sure, they wouldn’t say. They want to talk to you.”

 

“Did you tell them I’m offplanet?” Xanatos asks impatiently.

 

“Yes,” Granta replies. “But they insisted.”

 

“Granta…” he sighs. “You have got to learn to work with them.”

 

“I’m sorry, Father, but it isn’t my fault if they refuse to talk to me, is it?”

 

Xan sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Very well… I’ll be there within the hour.”

 

And with that, he cuts the transmission.

 

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to go to Prynnash,” he tells me.

 

“That’s fine,” I assure him.

 

“It’s in the right direction, thankfully. We won’t have to go too far out of our way, and once we get there we shouldn’t be held up for too long. I expect I’ll be able to straighten this out fairly quickly, and then we can be on our way.”

 

Xan returns his attention to the navicomputer, and once we’ve made the jump to hyperspace I use some choice words to describe the Hutts. He smiles.

 

“That sums them up pretty nicely. Still, though…” Xanatos sighs; looking troubled. “I first took Granta to Nal Hutta with me when he was fourteen years old! He even speaks Huttese, which is more than I do. But he just doesn’t know how to handle them!”

 

“Neither do I,” I say with a shrug. “I can’t stand ‘em. Every Hutt I’ve ever met figured out almost right away that I ha- disliked them.”

 

Xanatos raises an eyebrow at my stumble.

 

“Old habits,” I tell him with a shrug. I can still hear Yoda: _A very strong word, hate is._ Or at least that’s what he told the younglings who proclaimed their ‘hate’ for whatever leafy vegetable was being served for evening meal that night. Everyone else got the _hate leads to suffering_ maxim.

 

_As do lies,_ I think. _I’m in a horrible mess; there is a very slim chance that this is going to end well._

 

I release my anxiety to the Force before it can fill me. My worries are irrelevant right now. I should be focusing on the moment. I’m here, with Xanatos, and that’s what matters.

 

But I can’t help but wonder how long we’re going to last.


	5. Turned To Real Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets a warning for sexual content. I think everything should still be within the T range, but if you think I should up the rating, please let me know!

* * *

_Your fingers running_

_Over my body_

_Makes me feel like_

_A silver angel_

_Under the moonlight_

_Right beside me_

_Makes me feel like_

_A girl in a fantasy_

_Turned to real life_

_-Shiny Toy Guns_

* * *

(Siri)

 

I’m still sitting in the heavily padded, very comfortable co-pilot’s chair when we come out of hyperspace. As the planet grows nearer, I lean forward and let out an involuntary “Ooh!”

 

“It looks wonderful,” I say. Xanatos shoots me a slightly puzzled glance. “I mean it looks like a beautiful planet,” I add with a roll of my eyes.

 

“Yes,” he replies after a short pause. “I suppose it is.”

 

We enter the atmosphere, and I’m proved right. Deep blue ocean stretches out beneath us, dotted with tiny islands.

 

“Most of the planet is like this,” Xan tells me, taking on the role of tour guide. “There’s only one landmass large enough to qualify as an actual continent; that’s where our main facility is. We’ve mostly exhausted its resources, though; now our primary sites on this world are offshore or on some of the larger islands.”

 

I see evidence of this as we near the base. Huge offshore platforms dot the ocean’s surface, and many islands are full of mining equipment. I even see a few that are devoid of equipment, but also lack the green vegetation of all the others. I assume that these have been stripped of their resources.

 

It makes me sad, seeing this. I’ve heard of what Offworld has done to numerous worlds, but I’ve never seen it firsthand before. I suppose I’m a bit surprised- surprised that someone who can touch the Force would ruin their surrounding environment this way. I remember Obi-Wan’s description of the destruction on Telos, and I wonder if Xanatos does this in an attempt to work out some inner demons. Or is he trying to reject his Jedi training by destroying what a Jedi would revere?

 

We reach the continent, and I’m disappointed but unsurprised at the state of it. Like many of the islands we’d flown over, it’s almost entirely devoid of vegetation. Several areas look as though they’ve been strip-mined. Piles of tailings loom above the desolation like small mountains, and huge pieces of machinery sit around looking abandoned.

 

“We’re in the process of clearing all this stuff out,” Xanatos says, indicating the equipment. “We’ve done pretty much all we can here.”

 

The base is made up of a few large, low, buildings, with several smaller buildings scattered around them. Xan touches the ship down at a landing pad near the largest building, only a few meters away from the ocean.

 

We’re met with a cool breeze when we exit the ship. I breathe in the sea air with a smile. I’ve grown used to the pollution of Nar Shaddaa and recycled shipboard oxygen, so it’s nice to be on a world with fresh air.

 

Xanatos immediately turns toward the base, but I take a moment to admire the ocean view. When I do turn my back on it, I see someone striding towards us. As the figure grows closer, I realize it must be Granta.

 

He looks much the same in person as he had in the holo. His hair is jet-black and shoulder-length. Unlike Xan’s, which is slightly layered and shaggy, it’s one length.

 

He’s dressed in black, but instead of the loose tunic and cloak his father favors, Granta wears more conventional business attire. Overall, he’s not quite as attractive as his father, although I suppose I’m biased.

 

Xanatos nods at his son in acknowledgment. “Granta.”

 

“Father,” Granta replies, nodding back.

 

The level of restraint in their greeting doesn’t surprise me. I’ve suspected that their relationship is rocky; now I only wonder how bad it is.

 

“This is Zora,” Xan says, placing a hand on my back. I feel the customary stab of guilt upon hearing the alias, but it’s nowhere near as strong as it once was. I’m growing used to my deception.

 

Granta eyes me critically for a moment. When I evenly meet his gaze, he drops his eyes- but not before I glimpse a hint of wariness.

 

“Pleased to meet you.” His tone isn’t insincere, merely indifferent, and I know at once that he’s carefully controlling it. I can’t help but wonder what he’s leaving unsaid.

 

“Likewise,” I reply with a smile, pretending to have noticed none of this.

 

Granta turns to his father. “Gardulla requests that you contact her at your earliest convenience,” he says. “Not that she phrased it quite that way, of course…”

 

“Very well,” Xan replies wearily. “Let’s go.”

 

Granta lowers his head slightly, and I guess that he’s interpreted Xan’s tone as weariness for him, not the Hutt. I find myself unsure as to whether or not he’s correct.

 

We enter the main building. The interior is practical, utilitarian, and sparse. There are no decorations, but the receptionist at the main desk is extremely pretty. I can’t help but wonder if these facts are connected somehow- if Xanatos thinks he can use employees (or is she a mere slave?) in place of décor.

 

“I’ll give you a tour of the base once I’ve sorted this out,” Xan offers, and I agree, eager to see more of his world. Granta, oblivious to the fact that I’m observing him, scowls slightly.

 

A lift takes us up to the top floor, where Xanatos’ office is located. This area is a little nicer than the lobby had been. The room we first enter is a smaller lobby with a few chairs and tables. One wall is solid windows, overlooking the ocean. The opposite wall is opaque, and utterly blank save for double doors that must lead to the inner office.

 

“I shouldn’t be long,” Xan tells me. “Make yourself at home.” He turns to Granta. “I think it would be best if you stayed here.”

 

“Alright,” he replies evenly, face impassive.

 

“Do step out of character and try to be a gentleman, hm?” Xanatos says.

 

“Yes, Father,” Granta replies with a fixed expression.

 

Xan appears not to notice, and with a final smile at me, heads into the office. I’m left alone with Granta.

 

I take a seat in one of the lounge chairs. Granta eyes me for a moment and then sits down in the chair opposite.

 

“So,” he says after a moment. “How did you two meet?”

 

Somehow I doubt _we met in a bar_ is going to go over well. “We were both on Tatooine for business.”

 

“I see. You work for Krayn, yes? One of the higher ups in his organization?”

 

“I suppose you’d say I’m his third-in-command,” I reply.

 

“That’s… interesting.”

 

“How so?” I ask pleasantly, deciding I’ve answered enough questions for the time being.

 

“Well, you’re… not my father’s standard fare. He usually tends toward the beautiful and dimwitted.”

 

If I were pettier, I’d be wondering if he’d just implied that I’m not beautiful. “Maybe he decided it was time for a change,” I suggest.

 

Granta looks at me for a long moment, and something becomes clear to me. _Granta doesn’t like change._ Suddenly this conversation starts making more sense. It’s precisely because I’m not Xanatos’ “standard fare” that Granta is wary of me.

 

“You don’t know who he really is,” Granta says, clearly trying to sound certain.

 

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I reply mildly; but the truth is, that’s a statement _I’m_ not entirely sure of. Until recently I had no impressions of Xanatos as a father. Now I’m seeing him in that role… and I don’t know quite what to make of it.

 

Granta smiles grimly. “Maybe you think so. Has he talked about his past?”

 

_He’s afraid to know the answer to that,_ I know at once. _Because if he discovers that Xan has taken me into his confidence… to him, that would make me a very great threat indeed._

 

For some reason, I want to spare Granta that hurt. “Does it really matter?” I ask lightly.

 

He sets his jaw. “Yes. It does.”

 

I purse my lips. _Well, then…_ “I know all about it,” I tell him.

 

Granta shuts his eyes for a brief moment before his face becomes impassive once more. “Why would he tell you?” he asks, voice tight.

 

“I already knew most of it,” I say. “Xanatos has a reputation, after all. In… certain circles.”

 

Granta must assume I’m talking about the criminal underworld, because he doesn’t question my statement. “But why would he _date_ you?” he asks, sounding as though he’s trying to figure it out himself.

 

This time I smile despite myself. “I’m not really _that_ unattractive, am I?” I ask wryly.

 

Granta looks annoyed. “That’s not what I-“ He breaks off, taking in my appearance thoughtfully. “You’re awfully young for him.”

 

I sigh. “Does _that_ really matter?”

 

“How old are you?” Granta persists.

 

“Nearly twenty-six.”

 

He gives a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “I just turned twenty-five. Doesn’t the fact that you’re barely older than his son unsettle you at all?”

 

“Not when he fathered that son at age sixteen, no.”

 

Granta shakes his head. “I suppose he told you what an unwanted child I was,” he mutters.

 

It seems that’s a touchy subject. “That’s not quite how he put it.”

 

“But he did bring it up?”

 

“Well, he clearly wasn’t _trying_ to have a child as a sixteen year old padawan.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I mentally berate myself. Practically no one outside the Order refers to Jedi apprentices as padawans.

 

The reference changes Granta’s line of thought, but if it arises any suspicion he doesn’t show it. “He never tells _anyone_ he used to be a Jedi.”

 

“I knew that too, before I met him,” I say.

 

Granta sighs. He stands and walks over to the window, staring out at the view. I wonder if he’s really taking it in.

 

“Granta,” I say gently, moving to stand beside him. “I’m not trying to take your father away from you.”

 

He scoffs. “I never said that! That’s not what I think.”

 

“No, I don’t believe it’s what you think. I think it’s more of an irrational fear.”

 

Granta gives me a patronizing look. “You think I’m a child?”

 

“I think you want more from him than you’re getting,” I reply.

 

He turns his gaze back to the ocean. “That’s not true,” he says after a minute, voice utterly lacking conviction. I’m reminded once again of N’Lor. Granta may not be sending assassins out after Xanatos, but I see in him the same longing for acceptance.

 

“Okay,” I say simply. I can hear Yoda’s voice in my head: _Help you, I cannot, unless willing to help yourself, you are._

 

I wonder why I want to help him. At first I think that it’s for Xan’s sake, but that’s not the whole truth. Something about Granta’s plight is pulling at my heartstrings. I want to set things right between him and his father… but something tells me neither of them will be willing to let me.

* * *

A short while later Xanatos emerges from his office.

 

“Gardulla has deigned to converse with you,” he says to his son. “Is there anything else you’re having trouble with?”

 

Granta shakes his head. “No, Father,” he says quietly.

 

“Alright then,” Xan says. He turns to me. “Shall I give you a tour of the place and then we’ll be off?”

 

“Sure,” I say. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Granta.”

 

“Likewise,” he replies after a pause that stretches on a bit too long.

 

Xanatos and I return to the lift.

 

“What was Gardulla’s problem?” I ask.

 

“She… got her feathers ruffled,” Xan says with a roll of his eyes. “You know how the Hutts can be. I don’t think Granta was flattering her enough.”

 

I nod. “Sounds like a Hutt, alright.”

 

We exit the lift, and Xanatos proceeds to give me a brief tour of the base. It’s mostly admin stuff that goes on there, but there are some processing plants as well. Afterwards, we return to the ship.

 

“There’s so much more we could do in-system,” he’s telling me as we board. “But the entire system is owned by the Hutts, and it’s an agonizing process trying to get them to approve things.”

 

“Was there ever any sentient life?” I ask.

 

“We’re not sure,” Xan says. “This is the probably the only world in the system that could have sustained it. If any ever existed, it’s long gone by now.”

 

We chat some more about Offworld and the Prynnash system as Xanatos prepares the ship. I try to catch a glimpse of the navicomputer, and he banishes me from the cockpit.

 

“No peeking,” he tells me. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

 

I go and make myself comfortable in the lounge, which really is very nice. Xan soon joins me.

 

“How did you and Granta get along?’ he asks as he pours us drinks. Xanatos’ tone is totally neutral. He’s a lot harder to read than his son is.

 

“Well enough,” I reply.

 

“Really?” he asks, eyebrow raised as he hands me a glass.

 

“Is it so hard to believe?” I counter.

 

“In all honesty? Yes,” he says. “Granta’s never really approved of any of the women I’ve been involved with.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say he _approves_. But if I get to know him, that may change.”

 

“Don’t feel like you have to,” Xan tells me. “If he’s made up his mind to dislike you…”

 

“I don’t mind,” I assure him. “I think I can make Granta come around. Don’t you want that?”

 

“I don’t want you to be bothered by his attitude.”

 

“I’m not,” I protest.

 

But I get the impression that Xanatos is.

* * *

Xan allows me into the cockpit when we come out of lightspeed. When we reenter realspace, we’re approaching a planet that’s unfamiliar to me. The surface is largely dark, with bright lines and patches that glow like fire.

 

“I give up,” I say. “Where are we?”

 

“Mustafar,” he replies. “Heard of it?”

 

“Can’t say that I have,” I reply. “So… what’s on Mustafar?”

 

“Lava-surfing,” he answers casually. “If you’re interested.”

 

“Interested in surfing waves of red-hot lava on a skimboard?” I ask, hearing my voice rise slightly. I’ve heard of lava surfing, and it’s supposed to be spectacularly dangerous.

 

“With the Force, we’ll be absolutely fine.”

 

I consider this. “I suppose we can give it a try,” I offer, thinking it might be fun.

 

After we land, Xanatos confesses that he’s never done this before, which doesn’t surprise me much. He doesn’t seem the type for this kind of daredevil sport, and I wonder why he’s suggesting it now. Is he trying to impress me?

 

The Trandoshan running the operation doesn’t seem to care about our lack of experience, just rents us our skimboards and points us in the right direction. The lack of release forms or other such waivers make me suspect that the business isn’t an entirely legal one.

 

Mustafar’s surface is made up of black lava rock which crunches under our feet as we walk. The temperature is fairly sweltering as well, almost as bad as Tatooine in summer.

 

The path we’re on slopes down as it nears a flowing river of lava. We’ll be able to gather speed as we go down the hill on our skimboards before launching ourselves onto the lava.

 

“Ready?” Xanatos asks.

 

I take a breath, unable to shake the feeling that this is an incredibly stupid way to be spending my time.

 

“I suppose so,” I say. “This is awfully dangerous, though.”

 

“We have the Force,” he reminds me. “We will be perfectly fine. Besides… I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

This last is spoken in an almost-offhand tone; the key word being _almost_. Xanatos cares about me- far, far more than he’d like to admit.

 

I smile. “Well in that case, I won’t let anything happen to you, either,” I reply.

 

“Excellent,” Xan says. “Shall we, then?” He gestures towards the river.

 

_Oh, why the hell not?_ I think. _How long has it been since I did something just for fun?_

 

“Let’s go,” I reply.

 

We strap our feet to our boards and push off, speeding up as we go down the slope. When we reach the lava, it isn’t too hard to stay upright. I don’t even have to rely on the Force for help.

 

Xan is weaving his board from side to side, a look of exhilaration on his face.

 

I ask him if he’s having fun, and he replies with a grin.

 

The river begins to bend and grow more treacherous. I concentrate on navigating it. Xanatos, of course, is pushing off rocks and using the Force to propel himself into the air.

 

He leaps onto a rock, propelling himself off of it and executing a 360-degree turn in midair. _Superfluous use of the Force,_ I can’t help but think.

 

“Try it, Zora!” he calls to me.

 

For the first time I feel no guilt when Xanatos calls me by my code name. Yes, there are things that I’m lying to him about, but although he doesn’t know my real name or the fact that I remain a Jedi, I feel that he knows _me_ on some deeper level. On a deeper level than even Obi-Wan or my master ever did.

 

And he likes me; he’s attracted to me. He wants to do things like lava surf with me.

 

Right then and there, surfing on a lava river on a planet I’ve never heard of before today, I make a decision. This relationship won’t last forever, so I’m going to enjoy it to its fullest while I can. And I’m not going to tear myself up about it.

 

“Come on,” Xan calls. “Or are you going to let stupid Temple maxims get in the way of having a good time?”

 

I grin. “Like hell I am!” I respond; propelling myself off a rock and executing a Force-assisted flip in midair.

 

Eventually we reach a lavafall that marks the end of the course. There’s a shielded barrier a few yards before it, and on the spur of the moment I leap up, propelling myself onto the barrier and executing a turn off of it before following Xanatos to the shore.

 

“That was amazing!” I exclaim as we unstrap from our boards.

 

“I thought you might like it,” Xan replies.

 

We return our boards at a stand identical to the one we’d rented them at. Another Trandoshan is behind the counter, and he looks over the boards suspiciously, as though expecting to find that we’d harmed them.

 

The Trandoshan directs us to the tram that will take us back up to where we’d started. As we follow the path towards it, we come up to a shack about twice the size of the stand we’d just left. A half-burnt out holoscreen sign identifies it as The Lava Rock Grill.

 

“I’m kind of hungry,” I say.

 

Xanatos eyes the place with distaste. I laugh.

 

“Oh, is it beneath your dignity to eat there?” I ask.

 

“Yes,” he mutters, but follows me as I walk up to the shack.

 

We order something deep-fried on a stick from the waiter droid. It looks disgusting, but tastes pretty good. I’m fairly sure Xan agrees, but he refuses admit it.

* * *

We return to the ship, where the chrono informs us that it’s late evening.We take off, and Xan sets the navicomputer to take us to our next destination.

 

Neither of us is tired, so we head to the lounge. Xanatos takes a seat, but I remain standing in front of him.

 

He looks up at me, cocking his head in curiosity. I grin impishly and climb onto the chair so that I’m straddling his lap. A slow smile stretches across his face.

 

We kiss for a while before our hands start to roam. The sexual tension increases until I’m quite worked up. I can feel that Xanatos is as well.

 

“You know,” I murmur into his ear. “I haven’t seen the cabins on this ship.”

 

I pull back to see the expression on his face. He grins wickedly, slowly nodding his head.

 

“I think we should rectify that, don’t you?”

 

I stand, offering my hand. He takes it and leads me down the corridor.

 

Shipboard cabins are usually only big enough for two bunks, though I’ve seen larger ones that could accommodate four or six. This cabin, however, is what I’d expect from a ship as luxurious as this one. There’s one large bunk set into the wall beneath a viewport, and even a small desk off to one side.

 

I sit on the edge of the bed, and find that the mattress is soft and cushy- better than the one in my quarters on Nar Shaddaa, and worlds away from the pallet-like sleepcouches at the Temple.

 

Xan sheds his cloak and moves to join me.

 

“Don’t stop there,” I say, and he removes his tunics until he’s bare-chested.

 

His body is lean, with muscles that are evident but not pronounced. They ripple slightly as he joins me on the bunk.

 

I feel a wave of desire that travels straight to my groin. I pull him to me, kissing him passionately. He wraps his arms around me until our bodies are pressed together.

 

Within a few moments I’m laying flat on my back with Xan on top of me. He reaches for the fastenings on the back of my unisuit, eyes flicking up to my face to gauge my reaction. I lift myself up off the mattress a little so that he can have easier access.

 

He helps me out of the garment until I’m clad in only my underclothes. Xanatos rakes his eyes over me, lust evident in his gaze. I actually _shiver_ when I meet his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and I can feel the sheer _want_ radiating off of him.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

 

To my chagrin, I find myself blushing. “I’m really not.”

 

He strokes my face with the back of his fingers, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Yes, you are,” he says, and I flush.

 

“Not many have called me beautiful before,” I admit.

 

Xanatos’ eyes narrow slightly. “Jedi are idiots,” he mutters, leaning down for another kiss. He runs his hand along my side, reaching up to cup my breast.

 

In response, I slide my hand under the waistband of his pants, muttering at him to take them off. He obliges, and soon we’re removing our undergarments as well.

 

We make love slowly and passionately. All the other times I’d slept with someone, the encounters had been brief and almost hurried. And although I had long denied it to myself, thoughts of Obi-Wan had been in the back of my mind for some of those occasions. But this time… Obi-Wan’s the last thing on my mind. Xanatos is all there is.

 

Afterwards, Xan pulls the covers over us. We lie like spoons, with Xanatos pressed up against my back. He puts an arm around me and I snuggle back against him.

 

We don’t speak, just bask in the afterglow. The last thought I have before sleep claims me is that it’s possible that I’ve never felt this content in my entire life.


	6. Tomorrow Comes A Day Too Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in here is taken directly from Path to Truth (both the novel and comic), so I owe Jude Watson and Ryder Windham a debt for that.

* * *

_He said I left my home_

_Where the dead never rose_

_But the streets of gold I’ve yet to find._

_And at the end of the day_

_All you can do is pray_

_Without hope, you might as well be blind_

_Yeah be blind_

_Tomorrow comes a day too soon_

_-Flogging Molly_

* * *

(Siri)

 

The months pass. I keep working for Krayn, and am surprised and pleased to discover that his trust in me grows as time goes on. I send my monthly reports to the Council, and one day I receive a comm from Sandra, who’s passing on a message from them: they’re truly impressed by my progress.

 

Xanatos and I see each other as often as our schedules will allow. Sometimes he comes out to Nar Shaddaa, either to pick me up and take me somewhere fun or just to spend some time onplanet with me.

 

Other times I borrow a small ship from Krayn and fly out to Prynnash. On one memorable trip, Xan takes me in a hydrocraft out to a small island that’s untouched by his company’s mining equipment. It’s a beautiful place. We swim in the ocean and then make love on the beach.

 

By this time I’ve developed very strong feelings for Xanatos. Sometimes I wonder if I’m in love with him. What I feel is very different from what I’d felt for Obi-Wan, but in some ways, it’s also the same.

 

Certainly we never speak of our feelings. But when I think about Xan’s actions, I begin to wonder if _he_ is in love with _me_.

 

I cannot fall in love right now. How long will it be before I’m called back to the Temple? Besides, falling in love with Xanatos will mean I’ve crossed a serious line. Love is forbidden. As long as our relationship remains indefinable, I’m not breaking the Code _too_ badly.

 

During my trips to Prynnash, I have many occasions to observe Xanatos’ relationship with Granta. I finally decide that it is fractured, but not beyond repair. Father and son seem oblivious to this, and continue to treat each other with hostility.

 

Granta never really gets to like me. I can live with this, but I regret it. I honestly want to help Granta and Xan mend their relationship. I’m not sure why- perhaps being a Jedi has made me naturally inclined towards helping people. But whenever I try to bring up the topic of their relationship to Xan, he dodges the subject. Granta himself barely speaks to me.

* * *

And then one day, almost a year after I’d first met Xanatos, Krayn calls Rashtah and I for a meeting- not in the office building where such things are normally held, but on Rorak 5, a space station half a day away. Once there, he leads us to one of the high-security meeting rooms.

 

“I’ve been contacted by Captain Anf Dec of the Colicoids,” Krayn says without preamble once we’re inside. “His people are attempting to take over the spice trade.”

 

Rashtah’s head perks up at this, and my eyebrows raise.

 

Rashtah speaks. _They’ll never manage it,_ the translator droid supplies.

 

“Not unless we let them,” Krayn agrees.

 

“Are they planning to make a move against us?” I ask.

 

“They know how foolish that would be,” Krayn tells us. “No, Anf Dec was offering quite the opposite.”

 

“They want to ally themselves with us,” I say.

 

“Exactly,” Krayn replies. “We stand to profit quite a bit from this.”

 

_What have they offered?_ Rashtah asks.

 

“Nothing, yet,” Krayn says, looking smug. “Anf Dec wanted to know what we would require in order to let Colicoid ships go unmolested.”

 

Rashtah grins ferally. Staying in character, I do the same.

 

“What are you going to ask for?” I inquire.

 

“The Colicoids will need factories in which to refine their spice,” Krayn tells us. “I have the largest single concentration of such factories in the galaxy.” He pauses. “I plan to tell Anf Dec that I will require all of the spice mined to be refined in my factories.”

 

This surprises me. This… is big. If Krayn gets what he wants, it will make him even more powerful. Perhaps this will prompt the Senate into taking more action. Maybe my mission will be coming to a close soon.

 

_But what about Xan?_ I think, heart starting to pound. I shove the thought away- I’ll worry about that later.

 

_Do we have the resources for that?_ Rashtah asks.

 

“I believe that we do. We will need to acquire more slaves, and begin working them harder.”

 

This is not good news. Krayn is obsessed with increasing production, and the slaves are beginning to be pushed past their breaking point.

 

“They’re starting to die off, Krayn,” I say, careful to keep all judgment out of my voice.

 

Krayn grins cruelly. “Then we shall simply obtain more.”

 

I might have known he’d say that. Slave raiding seems to be one of Krayn’s favorite activities.

 

_Could we get enough to supply to the galaxy’s other spice mines?_ Rashtah wants to know.

 

Krayn thinks about it for a moment. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I believe that we could, given enough time.”

 

_If we could become the sole suppliers of slaves as well as the sole refineries used…_ Rashtah begins.

 

“Then our cut of the profit would be considerable,” Krayn finishes, eyes gleaming. “Yes… I shall speak to Anf Dec.”

 

It’s late when we return to Nar Shaddaa, but I waste no time in compiling a special report for the Council, which I immediately send to Sandra. This is, after all, a huge development.

 

Then I comm Xanatos. It’s not as late on Prynnash, and the thought that my mission may be ending soon makes me want to hear his voice.

 

“Aren’t you tired?” he asks me. “It’s late there.”

 

“No,” I say. “It was a big day today. Krayn’s trying to make a deal that would make him one of the most powerful beings in the spice _and_ slave trades.” There’d been a time when I’d never have told Xanatos that. Now, I don’t even think twice.

 

“I thought he already was.”

 

“Where he’s at now is child’s play in comparison to what he has his sights set on,” I tell him gravely.

 

There’s silence over the connection for a moment.

 

“That’s… very interesting,” Xan says, and I can tell that he understands the magnitude of the situation. “Can you give me details?”

 

“No, I can’t,” I tell him. “It’s all very hush-hush.”

 

“I understand,” he says. “Does this mean you’ll be too busy to come out here for a while?”

 

“Probably,” I tell him. “Can you come here?”

 

“I’m… not sure,” he says. “I am also trying to make a deal- with the Hutts, to get permission to mine on Prynnash IV.”

 

I know Xanatos has wanted to get his hands on the fourth planet’s resources for a while now. If he does, I don’t doubt that it will end up as ruined as the planet Offworld is based on now. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

 

“I’m happy for you,” I tell him, because I am at least happy that he’s within reach of something he’s been aspiring towards.

 

“Thank you,” he says; then, “So, you want to see me, then?”

 

He’s teasing. “You know I do,” I say. “But… yeah, I _really_ want to see you.”

 

“Is that right?” he asks smugly. “Well, in that case-“ He breaks off. “Hold on a moment.”

 

I hear noise in the background. Xanatos is talking to someone, and I guess based on the tone he’s using that it’s Granta.

 

It sounds as though his hand has been covering the speaker on the comm. It must have slipped, because suddenly I can hear the conversation.

 

“-Wanted to go over it at dinner.”

 

“I’m in the middle of something, Granta,” Xanatos says a bit sharply.

 

“Oh, you mean you’re talking to your girlfriend?”

 

“Who I am talking to is none of your concern. We will have time to discuss it tomorrow.”

 

“Fine,” Grants says shortly.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Xanatos says, speaking into the comm once more.

 

“You should have dinner with him,” I say.

 

“Oh, you heard that, did you? Don’t worry about it.” His voice warms. “I’d rather talk to you.”

 

“It sounds like you have business to discuss,” I tell him. “Besides… don’t you want to have a meal with your son?”

 

Xanatos hesitates. I think that the answer may be _no_ , and every second that he doesn’t speak strengthens my suspicion.

 

One question has been plaguing me since that first trip to Prynnash: does Xanatos truly love his son? I don’t know the answer. Part of me suspects that I don’t want to, and it’s that part that motivates me to speak before Xan can answer my question.

 

“I think you should go eat with him,” I say. “He’d probably like that.”

 

“He… might,” Xan replies slowly. “Alright, I’ll try to comm you tomorrow.”

 

We say our goodbyes, and I’m left troubled. I get the feeling that Xanatos hadn’t even considered what Granta wants.

 

The problem, I decide, is this: Xanatos sees them as business partners who happen to be father and son; Granta sees it the other way around. If he had once tried to connect with his father on an emotional level, those days are long gone.

 

But he still seems to hold a spark of hope. I can see it in the way he talks to Xan- the way he perks up when he’s praised, then immediately closes off when criticized. I think that maybe Granta has a part of him that is still a little boy looking for his father’s love; a part of himself that he desperately wants to be rid of, but can’t shake.

 

As for Xanatos… he’s a lot harder to read. He seems to have set standards for his son that Granta is unable to live up to. Perhaps if Granta was less hindered by his desire for acceptance, if he was what Xan seems to want… maybe then Xanatos would be open to the idea of having an actual father-son relationship.

 

But why can’t Xanatos just accept his son for who he is, and encourage him instead of responding to him with annoyance and impatience? I don’t know, and I don’t think it would be wise to ask him. It’s their business, after all.

 

So why do I want to fix their relationship so badly? I suppose part of the reason is that I care for Xan. I’m convinced that if the two of them had a better relationship, they would both be happier.

 

Whatever the reason is, I realize that I would do almost anything to help them reach that goal.

* * *

Krayn’s proposal to the Colicoids is well received, and a couple weeks later he’s been promised that he will be the sole supplier of slaves and the owner of the only refineries used for the spice mines of Kessel. All that’s left is to actually strike the deal, but this is delayed as Krayn and Anf Dec quibble over the details.

 

During those weeks, I manage to get a few days off, which I use to go to Prynnash. The entire time I’m there, I feel almost sick to my stomach. I have a nagging feeling that something is going to go wrong.

 

Am I receiving a warning from the Force? Is this the last time I’m ever going to see Xan?

 

I don’t mention these feelings, and if Xanatos feels anything like them he doesn’t say anything about it either. But we practically cling to each other the entire time I’m there, exchanging kisses and touches almost constantly.

 

It’s when I say goodbye to him as I’m leaving that I really feel it- strong foreboding. I’m convinced that something bad is about to happen. And with the possibility that my mission is about to draw to a close, I can’t help but think that this is it.

 

We share a long embrace on the landing platform. I tell him I’ll miss him. Instead of reminding me that we’ll be able to see each other again soon, he merely replies that he’ll miss me, as well.

* * *

Krayn keeps me busy over the next days, and just as I think I’ll be able to relax, he informs me that he wants me along on the raid he’s going on the next day.

 

“I thought you were taking Rashtah!” I exclaim.

 

“I am. I want you along too,” he replies.

 

There’s no use arguing. Krayn’s hunger for power is growing more each day. So I go on the raid, helplessly watching slaves being rounded up and locked away. We attack passing ships, for the most part, and a few times I’m required to join the boarding party- my skills in battle are well known by now.

 

Just when we’re finally heading back to Nar Shaddaa, Krayn announces that we are attacking yet another ship.

 

“Anf Dec’s ship is going to exit hyperspace here,” he announces, giving the Ranat bosun the exact coordinates. “Zora, observe through the periscope.”

 

I move to do so. “We’re attacking the Colicoids?” I ask, trying not to let my confusion show. “Is the deal no longer on the table?”

 

“The deal remains,” Krayn replies. “And it is not necessary for you to speak now, Zora.” 

 

I pan across the open space in front of us, pursing my lips as I do so. Even after two years, it takes effort not to respond with an expletive when Krayn talks to me like that.

 

“Hold us steady, bosun, and train all cannons on the exit-vector coordinates,” Krayn orders.

 

“Canons locked, Captain Krayn,” the Ranat boson responds. “A trillion pardons for my ignorance, sir, but why would the Colicoids exit hyperspace _here,_ so far from their destination?”

 

I’m wondering the same thing, and betting that they won’t be doing so intentionally. I listen intently to Krayn’s response.

 

“The Colocoids recently outfitted their ships with refurbished navicomputers, courtesy of my resellers,” Krayn says. His tone betrays nothing, but I know he must be very proud of himself. Half the time the slaver doesn’t even answer ‘ignorant’ questions like that when they come from Rashtah or myself, let alone from his lowlier employees.

 

The bosun bares his teeth in alarm. “You mean their navicomputers are _rigged?”_

 

“As they say, well, everywhere,” Krayn replies grimly, taking a sip from the goblet of wine at his side. “You get what you pay for.”

 

Through the periscope, I watch the events unfold. The Colicoid ship appears, and we dart around it, firing.

 

I can’t figure out why Krayn is attacking the Colicoids. Is he _trying_ to throw away everything he’s just accomplished?

 

The Colicoid ship begins to lurch around aimlessly, returning fire.

 

“We got a hit in?” I ask Krayn.

 

“Nothing that would make them move like that,” he replies with a scowl. “Anf Dec is up to something.”

 

There are Jedi exercises for improving your internal clock until you can feel each second go by, but I’ve never bothered too much with such things. My sense of time is good by normal standards and acceptable by Jedi ones, but during battle it’s always hard to tell how much time has passed. A few minutes can seem like an hour.

 

Of course, observing a starship battle by periscope isn’t like fighting a lightsaber duel, even if you _are_ doing it from one of the ships involved. The level of concentration required is far lesser, but I make up for it by wracking my brain for the reason Krayn got us into this battle in the first place.

 

So I’m not sure how much time has gone by when the bosun gives a cry of alarm. 

 

“Captain! Our weapons are down!”

 

_”What?_ ” Krayn roars. I’m alarmed, as well. We haven’t taken nearly enough damage for our weapons system to have been compromised. It must have been disabled from the inside, but how?

 

Krayn reaches the same conclusion. “Deploy the search droids, Zora!” he orders. “And get down to the tech control room at once!”

 

I can’t do anything but agree. “Yes, sir,” I say.

 

After sending out the droids, I head towards the stern. I wonder who’s managed to infiltrate the ship. The Colicoids don’t seem like the type, but I suppose I could be wrong about that. Perhaps some of the slaves have escaped and are attempting to wreak havoc? I hope not. If that’s the case, Krayn will be sure to put them down, and he might ask for my help. If it should come to that… well, I can’t just throw away a two year mission, now can I?

 

I reach out with the Force, and sense-

 

_Oh, no_. There are Jedi here, I’m sure of it. And they’re not in the tech control room.

 

Using the Force to sense their location, I finally find them at the exhaust ports.From a catwalk above the ports, I see a small shuttle and two figures down below. The hum of the ship’s spinning turbines is constant in the background. One figure is in the shuttle’s pilot’s seat. I don’t waste much attention on it- the person who is entering the ship will be a more immediate threat once they notice me.

 

The idea of coming clean with these Jedi is tempting, but I can’t. My mission is classified, and I can’t risk being overheard.

 

So I keep my cover, firing in the direction of the Jedi about to get into the shuttle’s passenger seat and deliberately missing. The Jedi crouches down to the ground in an impressive display of reflexes.

 

Time to get a closer look at the situation, I decide. I jump down off the catwalk, using the Force to slow my descent over the considerable distance. I land near the Jedi, who on closer inspection I realize is just a young kid, one who can’t have been a padawan long. Actually, he looks familiar. Where have I seen him before?

 

The answer hits me with a jolt, and my eyes immediately dart to the figure inside the shuttle-

 

Only to find Obi-Wan Kenobi staring back at me.

 

“Anakin, get in,” Obi-Wan says.

 

The boy looks at me- or rather, the blaster I hold in each hand- warily.

 

Obi-Wan speaks again. “You won’t shoot him, Siri.”

 

He’s not sure about that, I realize. Some part of him actually thinks that I’ll harm his apprentice. This stings. Yes, it had been given out that I had left the Order, and yes, I _have_ just come running in here, blasters drawn, like the criminal I’m supposed to be, but nevertheless…

 

Fine. To be completely honest: it hurts that _Obi-Wan_ has been taken in by my deception. I suppose I’d thought he would be different, that he at least would not be fooled.

 

These thoughts are too distracting. I realize, belatedly, that he’s called me by my name- the first being to do so to my face in two years.

 

“I am Siri no longer,” I tell him. “I am Zora.”

 

“There’s still Jedi in you, even though you have betrayed every part of our code,” he replies.

 

_Oh, is that right?_ I seem to remember saying something similar to Obi-Wan myself once, after he had _actually_ left the Order, the hypocrite.

 

But then I think of Xanatos, and wonder if Obi-Wan’s more right than he knows. I _have_ betrayed the Code. Attachments are forbidden.

 

I don’t know what to say. How would Xan respond?

 

“There are so many things I do not miss about the Jedi,” I say contemplatively as I move to block Anakin’s access to the ship. “One is their self-righteousness. It’s so boring.”

 

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and I wondrously.

 

“Zora!” I hear from the corridor. It’s Krayn.

 

I can’t let him find them here.

 

“Krayn,” Anakin says in recognition.

 

“Get in!” Obi-Wan calls to his padawan.

 

I’m about to move out of the way and let Anakin get into the shuttle, but Krayn’s voice calls out to me again.

 

He’s too close, I realize. Time to act.

 

I don’t hesitate- there’s no _time_ to hesitate. I quickly shut the access hatch to the shuttle’s passenger seat, immediately twirling around to face the control center for the giant turbines. Quickly I punch in a code, and the turbines start spinning faster.

 

The shuttle is lifted by the wind and sucked into the exhaust shaft. I fervently hope that Obi-Wan will make it out of there in one piece.

 

I hear a noise from behind me and turn to see Krayn on the catwalk, armed with a vibro-axe. Rashtah’s at his side, carrying a vibrosword, which he waves at me.

 

I turn to the control panel and set the turbines back to their normal speed.

 

Krayn comes over to where we stand. “What’s this?” he asks. “Have you caught our intruder?”

 

I think fast. Anakin isn’t _obviously_ a Jedi- he wears simple clothing, and his plain, nondescript tunic is long enough to hide his lightsaber from view. But if I tell Krayn that the padawan isn’t an intruder, how else can I explain his presence?

 

The answer strikes me in an instant, and I speak without hesitation. “No. This is nobody, just a slave. I grabbed him as a shield just in case, but he wasn’t needed. I’m afraid our intruders took the exhaust tunnel back into space.”

 

Krayn has a malicious look in his eyes. “If they made it,” he says. “I gave the order to jump to hyperspace. If they were in the tunnel when that happened, they’re space dust.”

 

I smirk. “That would be a bonus,” I say.

 

I am sure Obi-Wan made it. If he had died, there was no way I wouldn’t have felt it.

 

Krayn leans in to inspect the tunnel. “We’ll have to figure out a way to block this from airships,” he says. “Don’t want to be surprised again. Heads will roll about this one.”

 

Neither Krayn nor Rashtah are looking my way.I quickly reach underneath the hem of Anakin’s tunic and unclip his lightsaber. In the same motion, I hide it away inside my own tunic. He looks at me in outrage, but I’d moved too fast for him to stop me.

 

I manage to get Anakin away from Krayn and stick him in with the other slaves. Once we land on Nar Shaddaa, I make sure he’s among the lot that will be sent to work in Krayn’s mines.

 

As the guards take the slaves into the mines, I seek out their commander, a tall, tough-looking human with a shaved head and an eye patch.

 

“There’s a slave coming in,” I say to him. “A young human male named Anakin. He gets the easy duties.”

 

“Zora,” he says amicably. “Surely you know we have no favorites among the slaves.”

 

This is a blatant lie. Everyone knows that there are slaves who serve as informants in return for easier labor.

 

“Of course you don’t,” I say, matching his tone. “Many beings in your position wouldn’t be so professional. Here’s a little bonus for your good performance.”

 

I hand him a few packs of credits, which he takes with a smile.

 

“Anything to make my bosses happy,” he says.

 

And with that, the bribe is settled.

 

Once my work is done, I return to my quarters. I’ve been impatient to comm Sandra ever since Obi-Wan and Anakin had shown up on Krayn’s ship.

 

As soon as she answers her comm, I quickly fill her in on what had happened.

 

“What is the Council _doing?”_ I demand to know. “They could have jeopardized my entire mission!”

 

“The Council wanted to have someone on the Colicoid’s end,” Sandra replies. “They had no reason to think that Krayn would actually attack their ship.”

 

“I didn’t either,” I admit. “I haven’t quite figured out why he did it. It goes completely against the deal he’s hoping to make.”

 

“You’ll get to the bottom of it,” Sandra says.

 

“I hope so,” I reply. “You’d better tell the Council that Anakin’s alright. I’ve had to put him in with the slaves for now, but I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”

 

After I’ve finished my conversation with Sandra, I very much want to comm Xanatos, but it’s the middle of the night on Prynnash. Here, it’s very early in the morning, so I go to bed, where I lie awake for a while.

 

My mission is going to end soon, that is no longer in question. I don’t know when or why it will happen, but the Force is telling me that my time here is drawing to a close.

 

I haven’t even returned to Coruscant yet, and I already miss him.

* * *

Rashtah and I have a meeting with Krayn the next day, where I demand answers.

 

“Would you care to tell us why you attacked the beings we’re trying to make a deal with, Krayn?” I ask crossly.

 

Krayn’s face remains impassive. “They need to know the value of said deal.”

 

“You want them to know what they’re missing,” I realize.

 

_We’ve never attacked their ships before,_ Rashtah says. _Now they know what they’re asking us to refrain from doing._

 

“I’m not sure that attacking them is the best way to get them to raise the stakes,” I say, sarcasm lacing my tone.

 

“I wasn’t looking to raise anything,” Krayn replies coolly.

 

I have to resort to a subtle Jedi calming technique so that I don’t completely lose my cool. Ranting and raving at Krayn is _not_ a good idea.

 

_They needed to be taught a lesson. Now they know what we are capable of,_ Rashtah declares.

 

“So they’ll think twice before double-crossing us,” I realize.

 

Krayn gives us a grim smile. “Exactly.”

 

“How are we going to play it off?” I ask. “I don’t think Anf Dec will believe that it was an accident.”

 

“I’ll be blaming the crew,” Krayn says breezily. “I was away from the bridge, and they mistook Anf Dec’s vessel for a Brodogun Consortium freighter."

 

“Think it’ll work?” I ask.

 

“Trust me,” he replies grimly.

 

In this respect, I do.

* * *

As a token of his repentance, Krayn flies Anf Dec out to Nar Shaddaa to show him around the factories. He even has Aga Culpa tag along.

 

Culpa is ostensibly the ruler of Nar Shaddaa. He holds the official position, but Krayn has the man so well under his thumb that it’s as though he rules the moon himself.

 

I accompany Krayn, Anf Dec, and Aga Culpa on the tour. We walk along the observation platforms, pausing occasionally to observe the slaves at work. Krayn gives a running commentary about the mines and refineries. Culpa helpfully supports all of Krayn’s claims, adding further praise.

 

I watch the slaves working below us on the factory floor. I barely need to reach out with the Force to sense Anakin- he’s like a beacon. I realize now that his presence was what allowed me to locate him and Obi-Wan so easily on Krayn’s ship- though part of me thinks that the task would have been just as easy had Obi-Wan been alone, for the sole reason that he is _Obi-Wan_.

 

I reach out to Anakin with the Force. I want to reassure the boy, to let him know that it will be alright, that I am watching out for him. But he thinks I’m a pirate, a traitor. So I simply send him a warning.

 

_Do not attempt anything foolish,_ I think. He won’t be able to hear my words, but he’ll detect the general sentiment. Indeed, he looks up at me as I watch him. I keep my gaze stern, unyielding.

 

Anakin won’t have long to wait. He’s been here for a week already. I know Obi-Wan Kenobi; I know he’ll come for his padawan.

 

He should be here any day now.

* * *

Another week passes. I’m supervising production as usual, using it as an excuse to watch Anakin. He appears to be faring fine. In fact, it seems like he’s befriended some of the other slaves. He’s selfless, doing what he can to help them when they need it.

 

I’ve never met Anakin Skywalker before, but like every Jedi, I’ve heard of him. I know his story, how he had been a slave on Tatooine before he was discovered by Qui-Gon Jinn and brought to Coruscant. How the Council had refused to train him until Obi-Wan, bound by a promise he had made to his dying master, had insisted. How he is rumored to be the Chosen One.

 

I know this must be difficult for him.

 

Still, I cannot express my sympathy. All I can do is watch over him, and even that is becoming hard to manage without arousing suspicion- I’m not usually so attentive.

 

I comm Xan one day, keeping an eye on Anakin as we chat.

 

“Krayn’s big deal should go through any day now,” I tell him.

 

“Will I be able to see you after that?” he asks.

 

“I hope so,” I say, words lacking conviction.

 

A pause. “I miss you.”

 

Down on the factory floor, Anakin exchanges a smile with one of the slaves. If he keeps fraternizing so blatantly, he’s going to draw the wrong kind of attention. It might not be a bad idea for me to go reprimand him myself. It’s unlike me to deal with the slaves so directly, but it’s far better for him if I do it rather than one of the guard droids.

 

“I miss you, too,” I tell Xan.

 

Anakin puts a hand into his pocket. What’s he doing?

 

“Zora… I do care for you, you know.”

 

“I know,” I say, not taking my eyes off Anakin. “I do, too.”

 

“I think-“ Xanatos hesitates. “I… haven’t ever felt this way before.”

 

Anakin will be fine if I look away for five seconds. “Neither have I,” I tell Xan honestly. “Not about anyone.”

 

“Not even Obi-Wan?”

 

I remember that I’ll probably be seeing Obi-Wan again any day now.

 

“Not even him,” I say, letting the words hang between us. Xan knows that I loved Obi-Wan.

 

“Zora…”

 

Suddenly I’m nervous, irrationally so. I don’t know what he’s about to say, but it feels _right._ So why be nervous?

 

_Because I’m a Jedi. And if I’m not careful, I’ll lose my ability to act like one._

 

“I love you,” Xan says.

 

I freeze. Oh, Force, he’s said it, said what has lain unspoken between us for the past year. And if _he_ loves _me_ , does that mean that _I_ …?

 

I look over at Anakin again, thoughts racing. He’s on gravsled duty, and as I watch, he slows. He shouldn’t be doing that.

 

“Zora?”

 

Anakin takes something from his pocket and tries to hand it to another slave.

 

That’s it. The kid has _got_ to be more careful.

 

“I have to go,” I say slowly. “There’s a problem with a slave.”

 

“Zora, wait!”

 

There’s actual desperation in his voice, and I now have a very _bad_ feeling about this- like I’ll never talk to him again.

 

“I have to go,” I repeat. “I’m so sorry, but I _have_ to.”

 

“Comm me later?” he asks quickly.

 

My eyes fall shut for a moment. It won’t happen, will it?

 

“I will if I can,” I say past the lump in my throat. “Goodbye, Xan.”

 

I cut the transmission and head to the factory floor, trying in vain to release my swirling emotions to the Force.


	7. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hell of a lot of this dialogue is directly lifted from Path to Truth, so more thanks go to Watson.

_But it's time for me to go home_

_It's getting late, dark outside_

_I need to be with myself, and center_

_Clarity, peace, serenity_

 

_I hope you know, I hope you know_

_That this has nothing to do with you_

_It's personal, myself and I_

_We've got some straightenin' out to do_

 

_And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket_

_But I've got to get a move on with my life_

_It's time to be a big girl now_

_And big girls don't cry_

_-Fergie_

* * *

(Siri)

 

Anakin’s driving his gravsled towards the tunnels when I step in front of him.

 

“What is in your pocket?” I ask, keeping my voice stern.

 

Anakin says nothing.

 

“Come with me, slave,” I tell him.

 

He leaves the gravsled and follows me to a fairly quiet, out-of-the way corner.

 

I fix him with a stern look. “It is unwise to break the rules here,” I snap. “You are not supposed to fraternize with other slaves during work hours. No speaking is allowed unless a few words are needed for work.”

 

I realize that my tone is angry. I don’t release the emotion to the Force as I should- not yet. It will help me keep up appearances.

 

Anakin meets my anger with his own. “You do not have to repeat the rules to me,” he says. His voice and stance betray tiredness, but his tone remains firm. He’s not cowed by me.

 

“So you choose to break them? That is stupid. You will call attention to yourself, and attention is never good here. Your duty is to keep your eyes down and survive,” I say harshly.

 

Why can’t he see? He _is_ acting foolishly- he should be trying to fly under the radar until Obi-Wan arrives to save him.

 

“I am a slave, Siri. I am your prisoner. Isn’t that enough for you? Don’t pull me aside to rub my face in it. How dare you?”

 

I’m taken aback. His voice is full of contempt, an un-Jedi-like emotion. But given his age and the circumstances, I can forgive him that.

 

No, what really strikes me is that he’s onto something. I’m being harsh with him- not because I have to keep cover, but because I feel real anger. I resent him for being the catalyst that’s ending my mission.

 

I resent him for being what is taking me away from Xan.

 

Anakin keeps talking. “Who are you to tell me my duty? You betrayed us all. You turned your back on the Jedi and embraced the dark side. Now you are Krayn’s spy. The ally of a slave trader, the most contemptible, despicable being in the galaxy-“

 

He stops as we hear a chuckle.

 

“Such praise,” says Krayn. “How lucky I am to be such an icon of evil to my property. It means I am doing something right.”

 

As he speaks I receive a flash of knowledge from the Force- this is it. Anakin has essentially ended my mission.

 

“I was just reprimanding this slave,” I tell Krayn. Even if I’ve been discovered, perhaps I can keep Anakin from the same fate. “He is new and did not know the rules.”

 

Krayn fixes his gaze on me and I know he isn’t buying it. “So you are a Jedi. What did he call you? Siri?”

 

Of course, if this _is_ the end… I will never see or speak to Xanatos again. Ever.

 

“No longer,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the panic I am beginning to feel. “I left them long ago, but they have this ridiculous code of loyalty.They think they own me. No one owns me!”

 

“Ah, you forget something,” Krayn contradicts me. “I do.”

 

My master did always say that I was too prideful for a Jedi. _”No one_ owns me, Krayn.”

 

Guard droids approach and encircle us.

 

I tell Krayn what Xan believes. “I left the Jedi for good. I have been your loyal associate, Krayn.”

 

I should have known better. The pirate has no better nature to appeal to.

 

“Yes, the best I ever had,” Krayn says regretfully. I’m surprised- I didn’t know he valued me so highly. “But I cannot take the chance that you are a spy. Whether you are loyal or not doesn’t matter- you are a risk. You were the one to advise me about taking unnecessary risks, Zora. Isn’t it ironic that you will be put to death because of that?”

 

He addresses the guard droids. “These two are Jedi. Take them into the security prison to await execution.” He gives me a chilling smile. “I think a little show for the Colicoids might be a good start for our partnership.”

 

The droids herd Anakin and I towards the exit. I hold my head high and refuse to be intimidated by the circumstances. I am a Jedi, I tell myself. I am not defeated. I have not even begun to fight.

 

We take the lift to the lowest level of Krayn’s complex. I’m instructed to hand over my weapons, and I comply. They won’t be much help now. Were I alone, I would fight, but there are too many guard droids for me to be sure I can win and keep Anakin safe at the same time. I could toss him one of my weapons, but I have no idea how proficient he is in combat.

 

The droids put us into one of the high-security cells. When the door shuts, Anakin presses his hands against it. I imagine our situation seems very grave to him.

 

“The Colicoids are already here for the meeting,”I say, remembering Krayn’s words about having our execution serve as entertainment. “It might not be too long.”

 

Anakin doesn’t respond, which I realize is just as well. There’s a device in my belt that scans for surveillance, and I pull it out, glad that the droids hadn’t confiscated it. Best to make sure we’re not being monitored before either of us lets anything else slip. “No listening devices,” I report as the device finishes its scan. “Good.”

 

Again, no response from Anakin. Of course not. He still thinks I’m an enemy. “Anakin, I did not leave the Jedi,” I tell him softly. “I am working undercover.”

 

He looks at me in surprise. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

 

He doesn’t believe me. I’ve lied about who I am for two standard years and when I finally tell the truth, I’m met with doubt.

 

I release my frustration to the Force with a deep breath. “You don’t,” I say bluntly. “You have to trust me. Even Obi-Wan didn’t know.” _Even Obi-Wan was fooled by my act._ The thought is still painful. “No one at the Temple does, except for the Jedi Council. This was our final attempt to clean up Nar Shaddaa and end Krayn’s reign of terror.”

 

Anakin is silent for a long moment, absorbing this. “I believe you.”

 

“Good,” I say, taking a seat on the floor. “Not that my being a Jedi helps us at the moment. But it makes things a little more pleasant in here.”

 

Something seems to occur to Anakin. “I blew your cover!” he cries.

 

_Yes,_ I think, _You did._ Then again, someone had to. I don’t blame Anakin for being that person, not really.

 

“It’s alright,” I tell him with a wave of my hand, but I’m saying it to comfort him. I don’t feel alright about any of what has just happened.

 

“It’s not!” Anakin protests. “I compromised the mission. Obi-Wan has always instructed me to be careful with what I say in anger.”

 

“I am sure he also told you that I am responsible for my own risks. And I’m sure he advised you to recognize the danger of your impulsiveness and then move on without blame, only wisdom.”

 

“You sound just like him,” Anakin tells me with a smile.

 

“I know him well,” I say. “He has this annoying habit of telling you the truth just when you don’t want to hear it.”

 

_I’ll never tell Obi-Wan about Xanatos,_ I think. _He wouldn’t keep the secret, not even for me. And he wouldn’t understand, not even if they didn’t have a history. He’d tell me that attachments are forbidden. It was probably effortless for him to forget about what we had when we were younger._

 

Anakin laughs at my words, and sits down across from me. I smile back.

 

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Anakin,” I tell him. I’m able to say this now. “I’m impressed with your kindness and bravery. I saw how you tried to help the weak ones when you could.”

 

His smile goes away. “I know what it’s like to be a slave,” he says.

 

“Yes. And it is unfortunate that events placed you here. You have shown remarkable patience and strong will. I believe that you’ll make a fine Jedi.”

 

“If I’m not executed first,” he says gloomily.

 

“It’s not over yet,” I assure him. “Obi-Wan is somewhere on Nar Shaddaa, I’m sure. The Council sent him here.”

 

I’m guessing about this last. Obi-Wan must be onplanet by now, though, whether the Council has sent him or not. He wouldn’t abandon his Padawan.

 

“He is?” Anakin asks, visibly encouraged. “But how can he get to us?”

 

“He’ll find a way.” I know Obi-Wan, and I’m certain of this.

 

Anakin’s expression turns thoughtful. “So Krayn is in league with the Colicoids. That’s why Captain Dec was here.”

 

“The Colicoids are taking over the spice trade, and they need to make a deal with Krayn to process the spice here on Nar Shaddaa. The leader of Nar Shaddaa will look the other way, as he always does,” I explain.

 

He nods, looking thoughtful. “We can’t afford to wait for rescue. If the Colicoids are here on Nar Shaddaa, we have to act now.”

 

_We do, do we?_ “And do what?”

 

“If we can convince the Colicoids that it is in their best interests to take over the Nar Shaddaa operation, then Nar Shaddaa will come under the laws of the Republic, since the Colicoids are members,” Anakin explains.

 

“True,” I say.

 

“So slavery will be outlawed.”

 

I can understand why Anakin would want that. Obi-Wan would probably tell him not to let his feelings interfere in the mission. But this is _my_ mission, and I want the slaves freed, too. Accomplishing that would be in the best interests of the galaxy, not to mention the best interests of the slaves themselves.

 

But it won’t be so easy. “That’s exactly why they wouldn’t do it,” I tell Anakin. “They need slaves. Or rather, they convince themselves they do out of their own greed.”

 

“Exactly,” he replies. “So we have to use their greed against them. We have to convince the Colicoids that they can still make enormous profits without the slaves. They can do this by eliminating Krayn as the middleman. They won’t have to give him a cut of the profits, or rely on his abilities to run the factories, or worry about him cheating them.”

 

Anakin has his mind made up to accomplish this, and he’ll keep coming up with ideas until his goal of freeing the slaves is reached. He’s unwilling to give up. In fact, he reminds me of myself, before…

 

Just when _did_ I change? I was just like that at Anakin’s age. But as I grew older, I became disillusioned. When had that happened, and why?

 

“What makes you think the Colicoids would listen to that argument? They’re very cautious,” I say.

 

“Their caution and their greed will force them to listen,” he explains. “But we have to make them think that if they don’t do it, they will lose everything. I’ll bet they already distrust Krayn.”

 

“Everybody does,” I scoff. “That is, if they’re smart.”

 

“If we can convince the Colicoids that Krayn has a shaky hold on Nar Shaddaa and is in danger of loosing the factories, they’ll be more than willing to take the chance to overthrow him.”

 

“Why would they think that?”

 

“Because there will be a slave rebellion while the Colicoids are here,” Anakin says, growing exited. “The slaves will blow up part of the factory. If the Colicoids see this, they might seize that moment of weakness to take over.”

 

I think that Anakin may be letting his imagination get away from him now. What he’s talking about doesn’t sound very realistic. “But why would the slaves rebel?”

 

“Because they want to be free,” he replies, as though it’s obvious.

 

“It’s not that simple, Anakin,” I say with a shake of my head. I hate to crush his hopes, but the reality is harsh. “The guards hold the slaves in the grip of fear. Their brutality over the years has been great.” Greater than Anakin can imagine, because I’ve been doing my best to keep him insulated from all that. “The slaves risk too much.”

 

He reconsiders. “If they felt that they had a chance…”

 

“Yes…” Now I’m thinking as well. “Some kind of guarantee that made it worth the risk. I have an idea- you’re leaving out the third party in all this- the leader of Nar Shaddaa. He is in control of the civilian guards. If we can convince him that it’s in his best interests to back the Colicoids over Krayn, he can instruct the guards to look the other way when the slaves rebel. Nar Shaddaa will become part of the Republic, and the natives will enjoy the benefits of alliances and trade.”

 

“Of course!” Anakin exclaims triumphantly. “That’s the missing key.”

 

“I’ve been involved in some high-level meetings,” I say. “The Colicoid representatives know me. If I can get to them, I can lay the whole thing out. I can make them suspicious of Krayn’s abilities. They’ll trust me, since I’m his advisor. I know Aga Culpa, the leader of Nar Shaddaa, too.”

 

“And I’ll talk to the slaves,” Anakin finishes.

 

I sigh. We’re letting our excitement run away from us. “There’s only one problem. We’re in a high-security cell. And both our lightsabers are in my quarters. We can’t break out.”

 

Anakin merely smiles.

 

“Don’t tell me you have a plan for that, too,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Of course,” he replies.

 

I shake my head. “You remind me of someone I knew well years ago. He never let up, either. Made me think fast to keep up with him. Just don’t ever tell Obi-Wan I said so,” I finish with a grin.

 

“It’s funny,” he says. “I thought you hated him.”

 

_He thought-_ I manage to suppress my first instinct, which had been to vehemently deny his claim.

 

“Of course I don’t hate him. He just gets on my nerves.” My expression hardens, and I slip back into my Zora act for a moment- better Anakin see that than read the truth in my eyes. He’s very perceptive for his age. “But then again, most beings do.”

 

“But you’re a Jedi,” Anakin protests.

 

I shrug. “Being a Jedi doesn’t mean you don’t get irritated.”

 

His expression turns thoughtful. “I get more than irritated, sometimes.”

 

“I’m sure you do,” I say. “You’ll learn to deal with it. Maturing will help a lot.”

 

“I am mature,” he says, somewhat sulkily. “And I think my feelings are perfectly reasonable.”

 

“What feelings are these?” I ask. Perhaps I can help him- I’ve been dealing with some un-Jedi-like feelings myself, after all.

 

He’s silent for a long moment. “I want Krayn to pay,” he says, firmly meeting my gaze. Determination shines in his eyes.

 

I nod. “That’s understandable.”

 

He waits for a moment before realizing that I’m not going to continue. “But, for a Jedi-“

 

“It’s still an understandable feeling,” I say. “If you’re looking for a lecture about Jedi detachment and releasing your feelings to the Force, you can talk to your master. I’m certainly not the one who should be giving it.”

 

“Why not?” Anakin asks, cocking his head.

 

“Well-“ Why had I said that out loud? “Even though I’m a lot older than you are… let’s just say that that’s the kind of thing that even _I_ have trouble with.”

 

Anakin seems encouraged. “Krayn _should_ pay.”

 

“Now, I didn’t say _that.”_ Although I hadn’t denied it, either.

 

“But it’s true,” he says with quiet vehemence.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“He’s a monster! He kills people, enslaves them- he ruins lives!” Anakin’s words blaze with intensity.

 

“That’s true,” I say calmly. Once more, Anakin reminds me of myself- I used to be that passionate.

 

“You’ve worked with him for a long time, Siri,” Anakin entreats me. “You must agree with me.”

 

“I do,” I say. “He does ruin the lives of the beings he enslaves. We’re attempting to right that wrong.”

 

“He ruins the lives of other beings, too,” Anakin mutters.

 

I begin to understand. “Is that so?” I ask gently.

 

Anakin nods. “He spreads fear and terror into the hearts of those who should have none,” he says, not looking at me.

 

I nod. “That is true also.”

 

“Slaves everywhere fear him.”

 

“You would know that better than I."

 

He meets my eyes again. “He’s a despicable creature, and he should _pay.”_

 

I nod again, more slowly this time. “I can certainly understand your desire to bring him to justice.”

 

Anakin doesn’t speak.

 

“Anything more than that is not the Jedi way,” I say quietly.

 

I can’t help but think: _Who am I to be advising him about the Jedi way?_

* * *

Hours later, a tray of food is pushed through the slit at the bottom of the door. It looks thoroughly unappetizing.

 

“No, thank you,” I say. I can go a long time without food, and I’d have to be quite a bit hungrier than I am now to eat _that_.

 

Anakin, however, grabs the tray and breaks open a moldy chunk of bread. Inside is a small piece of durasheet with a message on it. I read over his shoulder:

 

_What can I do?_

 

_-Berri_

 

“Who is that?” I ask.

 

“She’s my friend Mazie’s daughter. She works in the kitchens here,” he explains. “Where did you hide your lightsaber? And, while you’re at it, mine?”

 

“In my quarters, underneath my sleepcouch.”

 

“That’s original.”

 

“It’s handy,” I reply, annoyed. “And no one ever cleans. I didn’t have to worry about being discovered. There are weapons checks throughout Krayn’s complex. I couldn’t take the chance that my lightsaber would be found.” Of course, I could do what Xanatos does on his visits to Nar Shaddaa- mind-trick the guards. But I’d eventually have been caught if I did that every day.

 

Anakin writes a return message.

 

_Zora’s bed. Weapons._

 

He puts the tray back into position, and after a few minutes it’s taken back.

 

I remember with unease the guards and their slave informants. “This could be a trick.”

 

“If it is, we’re no worse off. And it’s not a trick. Mazie is loyal.”

 

Mazie could be an informant. But the informants aren’t very subtle. Their status is known among the slaves.

 

“I trust who you trust,” I tell him with a nod.

 

Another hour goes by while we wait, and I’m increasingly worried that the message had been a trick. I know it’s petty, but I don’t want Krayn’s hands on my lightsaber. It’s _mine._

 

There are many Jedi exercises for patience. I can’t stand any of them.

 

“I was never good at the patience exercises at the Temple,” I remark.

 

“Me, neither.”

 

I let out a breath. “Obi-Wan always was.”

 

At that moment, our lightsabers and comlinks are pushed through the slit in the door. Anakin bends down to it. “Thank you, Berri,” he says softly. “Now get back to your post.”

 

We wait for a little while, wanting to give the girl time to get away.

 

“She should be gone by now,” Anakin says impatiently.

 

“Let’s wait a little while longer,” I murmur, turning my ‘saber around in my hand. It’s been along time since I’ve held it. At the beginning of my mission, I’d taken it from it’s hiding place often, clutching it as though it were a tangible lifeline to everything I’d left behind. As I grew accustomed to being undercover, I’d taken it out less and less. I don’t remember taking it out once after meeting Xanatos.

 

Anakin sighs, struggling to contain his impatience.

 

“Oh, alright,” I concede.

 

I ignite my lightsaber. Its violet glow illuminates the cell alone for a moment until the blue of Anakin’s weapon joins it.

 

I haven’t used my ‘saber for two years. For a moment I’m entirely disoriented- who am I? The Jedi Padawan? The undercover operative? The woman Xanatos claims to love?

 

I shake my head. I can’t think about Xan right now. I’ve been pushing away thoughts of our last conversation all through the hours Anakin and I have spent in the cell. If I think of Xanatos, I’ll fall apart. I can’t allow that.

 

I have a mission to complete.

 

Anakin and I slice through the door. I leave the cell first, in case there are guards waiting for us, but the corridor is empty.

 

“Krayn always trusts high-tech security too much,” I say. He’d have assumed that no one could have broken out of that cell, and that it was therefore unnecessary to place guards nearby. “Let’s head for Aga Culpa.”

 

We run into a few guard droids as we leave the prison, which we dispatch. I take out the comm panel, as well.

 

“We’d better hurry now,” I tell Anakin.

 

I take us on a route that I know is likely to be deserted, explaining to Anakin that it is Krayn’s personal escape route, which leads to his private landing platform. Aga Culpa’s quarters aren’t far from there. Krayn likes to have him close by- it makes it easier to observe him.

 

We reach Culpa’s quarters, and I walk right in.

 

“Busy as usual,” I say, shutting off the hologame the man is occupying himself with.

 

“How dare you burst into my private quarters!” he exclaims in what’s probably supposed to be outrage. Then he remembers who I am. “Does Krayn want to see me?” he asks nervously.

 

“No. I do,” I say, grabbing a chair and straddling it. “This is my slave, Anakin,” I say, waving a hand in his direction without looking at him. “We may speak freely in front of him.”

 

Anakin stiffens a bit at my words, but doesn’t say anything.

 

It’s time for me to enact the plan Anakin and I have come up with. Part of me marvels at the fact that I am preparing to actually _overthrow_ Krayn (which had never been my mission in the first place) with the help of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s twelve year-old padawan, of all beings.

 

“I’ve come to give you a message from the Colicoids,” I tell Aga Culpa. “They are going to take over the factories of Nar Shaddaa. Naturally Krayn is not aware of this.”

 

He looks afraid. “Take over?” he asks in a whisper.

 

“They have power,” I say truthfully. “And a close associate of Krayn’s has agreed to help them. That’s me. I always liked you, Culpa, so I’m giving you the opportunity to join us.”

 

“Against Krayn?” Aga Culpa looks as though this terrifies him.

 

Our entire plan hangs on the contingency that he agrees to this. “It would be a smart move. All you have to do is nothing. Tell the guards of the Nar Shaddaa factories not to interfere with the slaves.”

 

“I can’t do that,” Culpa says. “Krayn would kill me.”

 

This is true. Still, his cowardice grates on my nerves. “Are you so sure that you’re safe from the Colicoids if you do not?” I ask, trying not to condescend.

 

Aga Culpa looks even more afraid. “N-no. I can’t go against Krayn.”

 

_Oh, really._ I shoot Anakin an exasperated look. It’s nice to be able to do that, nice to have someone else on my side.

 

Hell, who am I kidding? It takes a huge weight off my shoulders to have someone here with me who actually knows who I _am_.

 

I gather the Force around me. “Contact the Nar Shaddaa guards,” I say, waving my hand across Culpa’s face. “If there is a revolt, order them to do nothing.”

 

His will is easily overridden, and he repeats my instructions woodenly.

 

“Do it now,” I order.

 

He comms the captain of the guards, who is surprised at the orders he’s being given. Aga Culpa emphatically repeats my instructions.

 

“Do it now or suffer the consequences,” I add softly.

 

He repeats this and ends the transmission.

 

“Thanks Culpa,” I say cheerily, leaping up. “I appreciate your support.”

 

Anakin and I exit. Something occurs to me, and I turn to him with a frown. “The Colicoids won’t be so easy. Jedi mind tricks won’t work. I’ll have to go alone, Anakin.”

 

He doesn’t protest. “I need to talk to the slaves, anyway.”

 

“I don’t need to wish you luck. I know you can do it,” I say, meaning it.

 

“Luck always helps,” he tells me. “I’ll wait for your signal.”

 

He runs off, and I head to where the Colicoid delegation is meeting. As I walk my thoughts swirl. Very soon, I will be able to be Siri Tachi once more. Zora will no longer have to exist.

 

But what will happen to her? Siri the Jedi Padawan will cease to be an undercover operative and return to Coruscant. What will happen to the woman Xanatos loves?

 

He can’t know I lied to him. I have to keep that from him- not for my sake, but for his. He loves me. I know deep down that it’s true. If he knew who I truly was he’d track me down, and in doing so, could be discovered.

 

So there’s really only one way out- Zora must die. It will be easy to get Aga Culpa to falsify the records. It can be given out that Zora died in the uprising; perhaps killed by Krayn for double-crossing him. I’ll have to wait and see how this plays out before I decide.

 

I reach the meeting room and charge right in. Inside are a few Colicoids and another being wearing assorted blast pads and a helmet that covers most of his face. He steps out of sight as I enter, and I don’t waste much attention on him. Despite the fact that he’s heavily armed, he doesn’t feel like a threat.

 

“You must excuse me for coming uninvited to the meeting,” I say to the group as a whole. Then I turn to a Colicoid named Nor Fik, who I know is in charge here. “I come to you without Krayn’s knowledge.”

 

Nor Fik tries not to look surprised. “Go on.”

 

“It is my belief that if you allow Krayn to keep control of the spice factories on Nar Shaddaa, you will lose them and we will all lose the enormous profits we gain from them,” I say.

 

“And why should we listen to you?”

 

“Because I know more about Krayn’s operations than he does.” At this point, this is likely true. “The slaves are poised to revolt. He doesn’t have enough security to handle it.”

 

“And what do you think, Bakleeda?” Nor Fik asks the helmeted being.

 

“What I’ve seen supports what she says,” he declares.

 

I look at him, intrigued. The slaves _are_ poised to revolt, if Anakin has done his job. But this development has only just occurred. And Krayn has more than enough security- as long as the civilian guards are on his side.

 

Who is this Bakleeda, and why is he playing along with my lie? I can’t see much of his face, but something about him definitely seems familiar.

 

I have more important things to worry about, though. I need Nor Fik’s support. I press down on the signaling device I have in my belt. This rebellion needs to happen now. I just hope that Anakin is ready.

 

“This needs further study. We cannot make a decision based on a few opinions. We are not prepared to take over the entire operation of Nar Shaddaa,” Nor Fik tells me.

 

“But you expect to someday. You won’t cut Krayn in forever.”

 

This is a guess. The Colicoids are ambitious beings, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they do intend to supplant Krayn one day. If they don’t… then I’m giving them more credit than they’re due. Either way, they’re not likely to contradict me.

 

“You will observe his methods and how you can improve them, and you will move in. He will be no match for you,” I continue. “It is my belief that the spice factories can be run more efficiently with workers rather than slaves. The help you would receive from the Republic would be of enormous benefit. You already have great power in the Senate.”

 

“You speak eloquently, Zora,” Nor Fik begins. “But again, I must-“

 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish, because at that moment there’s a huge explosion. I nearly lose my balance- only the Force keeps me upright.

 

I immediately go to the window, followed by Nor Fik and Bakleeda. We see a great deal of smoke emanating from one of the buildings in the processing plant.

 

Anakin’s done it, then. I can only hope he’s okay.

 

“The rebellion has begun,” I say. “Do you believe me now?”

 

Nor Fik is still looking out the window. As we watch, slaves begin streaming out of the factory. Some are armed with the civilian guards’ weapons.

 

He turns to me. “Where is Krayn?”

 

“In his quarters,” I reply.

 

“Perhaps it is time he was… detained,” Nor Fik suggests.

 

In that moment, my identities as Zora and Siri merge effortlessly. “I can arrange that,” I say, resting a hand on my ‘saber hilt.

 

Nor Fik gives me a nod, and I exit the conference room. I hear the door open again after it has shut behind me, and I turn to see Bakleeda there. My training tells me I should be ready to defend myself, but I still feel that he’s not a threat.

 

He removes his helmet. It’s Obi-Wan.

 

_Why didn’t I sense him?_ I wonder. My mind _has_ been on other things, but I’m still surprised.

 

“I thought so,” I lie. “You were never good at disguise.”

 

He smiles. “I fooled you. Admit it.”

 

I give him one of my ruthless pirate looks. “Never.”

 

“There is much I would discuss with you,” he says. “But there is no time.”

 

“Krayn’s quarters aren’t far,” I say.

 

“Lead the way,” he replies.

 

We begin to run.

 

“I assume Anakin is safe?” Obi-Wan asks.

 

“He ought to be,” I say.

 

Obi-Wan looks startled. “Siri-“

 

“Relax. This plan was mostly his idea. He led the slave rebellion.”

 

Obi-Wan nods, but doesn’t look entirely mollified. I realize why- he’s a master now. He’s always going to worry about his padawan, even when the boy is standing right in front of him.

 

We reach Krayn’s quarters and check them thoroughly, but he isn’t there.

 

“He wouldn’t go down to the factory,” I know. “He wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the rebellion.”

 

I share a look with Obi-Wan, and the answer occurs to us simultaneously.

 

“The landing platform,” I say.

 

I immediately turn and run out of Krayn’s quarters. I don’t need to look behind me to know that Obi-Wan follows.

 

_This is why we work well together,_ I think. _Why have we seen each other so little over the past years?_

 

The answer comes to me immediately. _Because we used to be in love. And we thought that the only way to get over that was to forget it._ Well, that hadn’t been true. And now that I’ve dealt with my feelings, I can spend time with Obi-Wan again.

 

I like the thought of that.

 

We run through the exit and out onto the landing platform. At the opposite end is Anakin, lightsaber ignited as he faces Krayn, who is bent over and looks winded. He never did keep himself in great physical shape.

 

Krayn drops the vibro-axe he’s holding and looks up at Anakin.

 

Obi-Wan calls his padawan’s name and heads over to assist him. I move around to flank them in case I need to lend a hand, though Force only knows how rusty my ‘saber skills are.

 

Anakin raises his lightsaber. Obi-Wan cries out for him to stop, but the boy doesn’t. He buries his lightsaber into Krayn’s chest and, after a moment, the pirate falls to the ground with a shocked look on his face.

 

Krayn is dead.

 

Obi-Wan rushes to his apprentice’s side. “Anakin!”

 

The boy looks up, eyes wide. “He had a blaster. He could have killed me.”

 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks.

 

“It was self-defense!” Anakin insists.

 

I approach Krayn’s body and roll it over.

 

“He’s right, Obi-Wan,” I call. “He did have a blaster.”

 

Anakin nods eagerly. “You see?”

 

Obi-Wan looks as though he remains unsure about something, but after a moment his expression clears. “Yes, I see,” he says softly. “I’m more concerned about you.”

 

“I’m not hurt,” Anakin replies promptly.

 

Obi-Wan darts a look in my direction, but I merely shrug. _He’s_ the boy’s master.

 

“Just because you are not physically harmed-“

 

“I feel fine,” Anakin says. He turns to me. “How did things go with the Colicoids?”

 

“Fine,” I say. “Just as we planned.”

 

Obi-Wan looks at me again, but this time his expression is disapproving. I think I know why: he wants to be sure that his padawan is alright. The boy is young, after all, and he’s been through an ordeal. But he is also a Jedi. He’d maintained his composure and is now ready to continue with the mission. I respect that.

 

“So what now?” Anakin asks.

 

Obi-Wan intervenes. “Now, my padawan, it is time for you to get some rest.”

 

“Master, I’m fine!” he protests. “I want to help.”

 

“You’ve already done more than enough, Anakin,” I say. “But if you really wish to stay involved, I’d be more than glad to let you do so.”

 

Obi-Wan shoots me another disapproving look.

 

“As long as it’s alright with your master,” I amend.

 

Anakin turns to Obi-Wan. “Please, Master?”

 

Obi-Wan sighs. “Well… I suppose.”

 

The boy grins. “So what now?” he asks eagerly.

 

“We need to meet with the Colicoids,” I say. I turn to Obi-Wan. “How exactly did you infiltrate them?”

 

“They wanted a slave trader who was on their side; someone to look out for their interests during their dealings with Krayn.”

 

I nod, unsurprised. “I see. And they don’t yet know that any of us are Jedi.”

 

“No,” he agrees. “We will have to reveal that to them.”

 

“Right now?” I ask, alarmed.

 

Obi-Wan blinks. “Why shouldn’t we?”

 

_Because I’m not ready for this mission to be over. If it ends, then that’s the end of my relationship with Xanatos._ I take a deep breath. I have to do what must be done, regardless of my personal feelings.

 

“No reason,” I say. “I’ll go meet with them, then.”

 

“What about the slaves?” Obi-Wan asks.

 

“They’re free,” Anakin says.

 

“And what are they to do with that freedom?”

 

Anakin opens his mouth, but shuts it quickly. Clearly the boy hasn’t thought this far ahead.

 

But I have. “Leave that to me,” I say.

* * *

Obi-Wan and I return to the meeting room where the Colicoids are. Anakin has gone to explain our plan to the former slaves.

 

When we enter the room, we find its occupants engaged in a heated argument. I stride up to the conference table and place both hands on it.

 

“Would you _please_ be silent?”

 

They quiet.

 

“Zora,” says Nor Fik. “I-“

 

“I am speaking, if you don’t mind,” I say.

 

Nor Fik notices Obi-Wan behind me. “What are you doing with her?” he demands.

 

“He’s on my side,” I say.

 

“And exactly whose side are you _on_ , Zora?” Nor Fik demands.

 

My lips curve into a smile. “The Republic’s.”

 

He scowls. “Impossible.”

 

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Obi-Wan says.

 

“You know that I have worked for Krayn for two years,” I say. “What you do not know is that it was a lie.” I take a deep breath. The moment of truth has come. “My name is Siri Tachi, and I am a Jedi.”

 

Nor Fik blinks at me. “And you as well?” he asks Obi-Wan.

 

Obi-Wan nods.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Nor Fik declares.

 

“It is the truth, whether you believe it or not,” says Obi-Wan.

 

“It is going to take far more than your word for us to accept the fact that-“

 

Enough of this. Reaching out with the Force, I seize an empty chair from the end of the table and hurl it through the window, which shatters spectacularly.

 

“Do you believe me now?” I demand.

 

Nor Fik and the others nod, cowed.

 

“The Senate knows all about your dealings with Krayn.” I say. “And it’s up to them to prosecute you however they see fit. For the moment, however…” I look around at each of them. “You control the spice mines of Nar Shaddaa.”

 

“The question is; what are you going to do with that power?” Obi-Wan asks.

 

“You could begin to make amends for what you did,” I say.

 

“And just how would you have us do that?” Nor Fik asks. He seems to be the only one of them with enough courage to speak.

 

“There are a large number of freed slaves in need of honest work,” Obi-Wan tells them. “Hire them to work for you. Make sure the conditions are humane.”

 

“They know how to run the mines,” I say. “They’d make you a profit, and earn enough to support themselves and their families. Of course, Krayn was working the slaves he had to death. You’d need to hire on more workers.”

 

“But there’s a shortage of jobs on Nar Shaddaa, is there not?” asks Obi-Wan, turning to me.

 

“There is,” I reply.

 

The Colicoids stare at us dumbly.

 

“So,” I say pleasantly. “What are you going to do?”

-

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks after we leave the conference room.

 

“I’m fine,” I reply.

 

“You seem a bit tense.”

 

“You’d be tense, too, if your two-year mission had just come to an end,” I say shortly.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t really leave the Order,” Obi-Wan tells me. “It hurt, to think that you would do that. But as soon as I stopped to really think about it, I knew it couldn’t be true.”

 

“Took you two years to figure that out, huh?” I mutter.

 

“It did take a while to get past the feeling of betrayal,” he replies.

 

I shake my head. “Well, I’m glad to know you’re past all that.”

 

“When I thought you’d left,” he begins. “I thought I’d never see you again. I hated the thought of that.”

 

“None of it was true,” I reply. “That must be comforting.”

 

“We haven’t had a lot to do with each other for the past few years,” he says.

 

“We both know why that was,” I say.

 

“Do we?”

 

I smile, slightly annoyed. “Yes, Obi-Wan. We do, self-imposed amnesia notwithstanding. But we’re past all that now, right?”

 

“Of course,” he says mildly.

 

I truly smile this time. “Then we can be friends again.”

 

He smiles back. “That would be excellent.”

* * *

It’s two days until we return to Coruscant.

 

My commlink won’t stop signaling. I finally throw it off a high landing platform when the urge to pick it up grows too strong. I know that if I do answer, Xanatos will be on the other end. It takes enormous effort not to check the messages on the computer in the quarters I’ve been living in, because I know he must have been trying to contact me that way as well. Finally I hack the entire computer to bits with my lightsaber. It removes the temptation, and will keep anyone from salvaging any of the data off of it.

 

I’m actually terrified that Xan will show up here on Nar Shaddaa. All it would take would be for Obi-Wan to catch one glimpse of him, and everything would come crashing down for both of us.

 

I visit Aga Culpa, who’s truly paralyzed over the possibility that the Senate will bring charges against him. Bluntly, I tell him that they have bigger fish to fry. Then I tell him that one word from me could get him shipped off to a prison world. Just as I’d expected, he begs me not to implicate him. I promise that I won’t, so long as he falsifies the records and spreads the word: Zora is dead, killed in the uprising along with Krayn and Rashtah. He assures me that it will be done.

 

The transport that arrives to take us back to Coruscant is almost as sophisticated as Xanatos’ starcruiser. This is because it is not just any transport.

 

“We’ll certainly be returning to Coruscant in style,” I say, standing on the landing platform with Obi-Wan and Anakin.

 

“It’s not often that a Senate delegation comes to congratulate us on a mission and give us a lift home,” Obi-Wan agrees. “As a matter of fact, it’s never.”

 

“I guess they are grateful for the liberation of Nar Shaddaa,” I remark.

 

“Not to mention the downfall of Krayn and his pirate empire,” Obi-Wan adds. “The galaxy will be safer for many.”

 

Anakin nods in silent agreement.

 

The landing ramp is lowered. “Come, let’s go greet them,” Obi-Wan suggests.

 

“Wait, there’s Mazie and Berrie,” Anakin protests. “I have to say hello.”

 

“Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine has come here himself,” Obi-Wan admonishes.

 

“I know,” Anakin replies impishly, and Obi-Wan nods in acquiescence.

 

The Twi’leks approach, Mazie limping a little due to the fighting, and thank us for freeing them. Anakin replies that they have done that themselves, and thanks Berri for helping the two of us get out of the security prison.

 

“I did only what I could,” Berri says modestly. 

 

“That was a great deal,” I reply gravely.

 

“The Colicoids have offered us wages to remain,” Mazie tells us. “We will do so until we have enough to get off-planet. Nar Shaddaa is no place to live.”

 

“Perhaps the Jedi can help with the relocation effort,” I suggest. “We’ll be in contact after we reach the Temple.”

 

_Unbelievable,_ I think to myself. _A year ago, I’d never have thought that I’d have trouble letting this mission go._

 

Mazie and her daughter look pleased to hear this. “That would be very good,” says Mazie. “Safe journey home.”

 

“You won’t have to worry about pirates,” Berri jokes.

 

As if pirates could scare me. I’ve been one of them, after all. Only I wasn’t really. I’m a Jedi. I’ve _always_ been a Jedi. Why am I having difficulty remembering that?

 

Mazie thanks Anakin for killing Krayn. She gets emotional, but I’m not paying much attention to her words. My thoughts are elsewhere.

 

I don’t want to leave. But I don’t want to continue being Zora, do I? _No,_ I realize. _I want to continue being the woman Xanatos loves._

 

But I’m not. I completely abandoned my Zora disguise at the first opportunity. I have no Jedi robes, but I’ve clad myself in the closest things I could find. I’ve even stripped the dye from my hair.

 

I’ve wiped away all traces of Zora, because she is dead. When I leave Nar Shaddaa, I leave that identity behind forever.

 

Obi-Wan and Anakin turn away from Mazie and Berri, and I follow. When we approach the Senate delegation, the Chancellor smiles at us.

 

“The Jedi have brought freedom to Nar Shaddaa at last,” he says warmly. “Now we can begin to clean up this world. The Colicoids need our help, and we need theirs. It is the price we pay for the liberation of Nar Shaddaa and the end of Krayn. The Senate thanks you for your great service to the galaxy.”

 

We nod in thanks. Recognition. It feels so strange.

 

“Now, come aboard,” the Chancellor tells us. “We have everything prepared for a comfortable journey back to Coruscant.” With that, he rests a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and guides him towards the ramp.

 

“It appears that your padawan has impressed the Chancellor,” I say to Obi-Wan. “He has great gifts.”

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. “Yet he has so much to learn.”

 

How will _I_ learn to be a proper Jedi again? How will I learn to forget Xanatos?

 

“As do we all,” I say softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m just going to be honest here. Part of the reason it’s been so long since I last updated is because I got discouraged with the lack of response to this fic. If you’ve read this far, and are liking it, please consider leaving a comment or kudos. It really means a great deal to me.


	8. I'll Let You In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something new POV-wise, here.
> 
> This chapter also has spoilers for The Captive Temple.

_I operate a searchlight_

_From a tower through a window_

_Many hours I spent looking for you_

_Ever since you’ve been gone_

_-Jackie Greene_

* * *

(Xanatos)

 

“I love you,” I dare to say. I wait for an answer, but none comes. “Zora?”

 

“I have to go,” she says. “There’s a problem with a slave.”

 

“Zora, wait!” Part of me is appalled by the tone I use- it’s almost as if I’m begging. But I can’t let her go, not like this. Not when something so important has just been laid on the line.

 

“I have to go,” she says again. “I’m so sorry, but I _have_ to.”

 

“Comm me later?” I ask immediately. I have to talk to her about this. She can’t just brush it aside; I _know_ she can’t. I mean more to her than that.

 

“I will if I can,” she says, voice slightly strangled. “Goodbye, Xanatos.”

* * *

It had been a bad idea to tell her.

 

I don’t hear from Zora for the rest of the day. I’m more anxious than I like to admit. I shouldn’t have told her what I felt. It had long lain unspoken between us; it should have remained so.

 

Then why had I done it? All I know is that I had felt compelled to tell her, because I felt as though I was about to lose her. I’d felt a warning from the Force, and in my distress had blurted out my deepest feelings.

 

I’ve never been in love before. It had taken me a long time to decide that what I feel for Zora is indeed love, but as time went on I could no longer deny it. It feels odd, and I don’t know if that will ever stop. Love is… foreign to me.

 

I manage to keep myself occupied for the rest of the day- no difficult task, considering what a busy man I am. I’m still trying to convince Gardulla and our other investors that it’s worth their while to allow me to mine Prynnash IV. The planet’s resources are considerable, but they are as always reluctant to foot the expense.

 

I work until late that night. When I finally retire, I manage to refrain from contacting Zora.

* * *

The next day, I throw myself into my work again. Restless, I spend an hour or so with Granta in his office, grilling him over the work he’s been doing. As usual, he fails to meet my expectations.

 

Finally he snaps, something that doesn’t occur often. “If you would stop criticizing me, perhaps I could get some work done!” he exclaims.

 

I purse my lips. “If I had the confidence that you would complete that work to the best of your ability-“

 

“I _do_ complete my work to the best of my ability!” he cries. “And I know that that’s not good enough for you, but what the hell do you want me to do about it?”

 

“I want you to improve,” I say shortly, and leave the room.

 

I return to my office and find I’ve received a message from Gardulla the Hutt. I comm her back and she informs me that she will send a representative out to meet with me tomorrow, in order to discuss the matter of mining the fourth world. I’m very satisfied indeed with this, and spend the rest of the day putting together a presentation on the subject.

 

That evening I dine alone. It’s my practice to eat with Granta- we typically discuss the day’s work over dinner- but tonight he seems to be avoiding me, which is unsurprising. Most likely he’s sulking over the words we had earlier.

 

As I’m finishing the meal, Granta comes bursting into the room.

 

“I’m afraid you’re late,” I remark. “But I believe your dinner’s being kept warm in the kitchens, if you haven’t already had it.”

 

“I have,” he says shortly. “There’s something I think you’ll want to see.”

 

He crosses to the holoprojector at the side of the room and turns it on, tuning into a Holonet report.

 

_”The revolt appears to have had dramatic effects. The slaves easily overthrew their guards. How they accomplished this has not yet been determined, as security is considerable…”_

 

Seeing the image on the screen, my heart stops. It’s an arial view of Krayn’s processing plant on Nar Shaddaa, and the building is smoking.

 

_”Reports have just come in that Krayn himself has been killed,”_ the announcer went on. _”Along with at least one of his closest associates.”_

 

At least one of his- no. No, she cannot be dead. _I’d have felt it,_ I tell myself. _She must still live._

 

But is she injured? Are vindictive slaves even now hunting her down?

 

_She’ll have to get offplanet at all costs,_ I think. _Krayn ran that world. Everyone there will know her. She won’t be safe._

 

I stand. “I’m going to Nar Shaddaa.”

 

“But- what about the meeting?” Granta asks.

 

“It’s not important.”

 

“Not- Father, we’ve been working towards this for months!”

 

I take a deep breath. “I have to go,” I say.

 

Granta nods. “Go, then. I’ll handle the meeting.”

 

_If he handles it, we’ll never get the fourth planet’s resources,_ I realize.

 

“No,” I say. “You won’t.”

 

He purses his lips. “Fine. But she’s not a damsel in distress, Father. She’s a pirate. She can take care of herself.”

 

_A pirate,_ and _a former Jedi,_ I remind myself.

 

“You’re right,” I say shortly. “She can.”

 

I hope with all my heart that I’m right.

* * *

I don’t get much sleep that night, not that that detracts from my ability to stay alert and focused at the next day’s meeting. I allow Granta to accompany me, because I plan to leave for Nar Shaddaa that evening, and he’ll have to handle everything while I’m gone.

 

The meeting seems to go well, but it takes up the entire afternoon. Once it ends, Granta and I eat a brief meal, and I make certain that he’s equipped to handle the company alone for a few days.

 

“You’ve trusted me before, why is it so hard to do now?” he wants to know.

 

“This is very important,” I say. “You’ve been known to make mistakes. I don’t want to jeopardize this deal. Remember, there’s only so much more we can do on this world. This company used to be the largest mining organization in the galaxy, and now it’s shrunk down to one system. I will not allow it to fail.”

 

“I won’t let you down, Father,” Granta says, determination shining in his eyes.

 

By the time I get everything together and take off, it’s the middle of the night. Once I reach Nar Shaddaa it will already be morning, even though I’ve taken a small, fast ship. I only hope that I will make it in time, and that I will be able to find her.

* * *

When I come out of hyperspace, I’m almost immediately passed by a Republic cruiser that’s flying away from the planet. I start in surprise. What is the Republic doing out here?

 

I land at Krayn’s complex and take a look around. It’s been taken over by Colicoids, who inform me that they are now in charge. When I demand to know what has become of Zora, they direct me to Krayn’s old office.

 

I make my way there and stride inside unannounced.

 

“Who are you?” demands the Colicoid behind the desk.

 

The Colicoids are members of the Republic. If I tell them who I am, they could inform the authorities, who, once tipped off, could very likely find me. I still refuse to take up an alias- foolish, perhaps, but I have my pride. I will continue to bear my father’s name.

 

“Xanatos Omega,” I say. Damn the consequences.

 

The Colicoid appears not to recognize my name. “I am Captain Anf Dec,” he says. “What is your business here?”

 

“I seek Zora,” I tell him. “I must know what happened to her after Krayn’s organization fell.”

 

“She died,” Anf Dec says immediately.

 

I shake my head. “No.”

 

“That is the truth,” he replies.

 

“It is not,” I say through gritted teeth. “She is not so easily killed.”

 

“And you think that Krayn and Rashtah were?” Anf Dec counters.

 

“How did they die, then?”

 

The Colicoid pauses. “There were Jedi.”

 

_”What?”_ I demand.

 

He nods. “Yes. They killed Krayn and Rashtah.”

 

“And Zora?”

 

“Her as well.”

 

“You lie,” I say in a low voice. “I would know if she were dead.”

 

“I am no liar,” Anf Dec insists.

 

“Tell me the truth!” I command. When this gets no response, I reach out with the Force. “You will tell me what happened.”

 

“I have already told you,” he says stubbornly.

 

“You _will_ tell me the truth,” I repeat, pushing harder.

 

“I do not lie.”

 

I push him harder, but he still resists. He can’t be as strong of mind as all that- his species must be naturally resistant to the mind trick. If I continue like this all it will do is kill him. I consider the option, but his death would serve no purpose here.

 

“You are useless,” I tell him, striding out.

 

I contemplate going to see Aga Culpa, Nar Shaddaa’s ruler, but from what Zora has told me of him, I doubt he’ll be any more help than Anf Dec was.

 

So I head outside and hail a taxi. The moon of Nar Shaddaa is, like Coruscant, comprised of one enormous city, and I instruct the driver to take me to the worst part of it. Figuring it’s as good a place to start as any, I enter the sleaziest bar I can find.

 

The interior is dark and squalid. Beings slump in booths and against the bar. Many appear to have trouble staying upright, and all are as squalid as the establishment itself.

 

I stride up to the bar, pushing drunkards out of the way as I go.

 

“I need information,” I tell the bartender, a Gran.

 

“Ain’t got none,” he grunts in response.

 

He’s likely lying, but I doubt that he’d be the best source regardless. “Who does?”

 

“Dunno.”

 

“Yes, you do,” I say with quiet intensity. “And it would be very wise for you to tell me.”

 

He regards me for a moment. Finally he decides I’m more dangerous than he is and gives me a grudging nod.

 

“What’re you looking for?” he asks.

 

“I need to know about Zora.”

 

The Gran scoffs. “Take your pick,” he said, waving his hand around the bar. “Everyone knows her.”

 

“How many of them know what happened to her?” I counter.

 

“All of ‘em,” he replies. “She died.”

 

“Ah, but that is a lie,” I say softly. “So tell me who can confirm that.”

 

The Gran shakes his head. “She’s dead alright. Anyone who could prove otherwise’d have to have some damn good contacts. But since you’re so set on it…try Souffie in the corner there. She’s in the know.”

 

I nod and head over to a dark corner booth where I find a female Herglic nursing a drink. I sit across from her.

 

“You are Souffie?” I ask the large alien.

 

She nods. “Yes.”

 

“I need to know about Zora. She’s not dead, is she?”

 

Souffie nods again. “She is. Killed by Jedi.”

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

“The Jedi _were_ here, you know. Everyone saw them.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” I tell her. “But they did not kill her.”

 

“They killed Krayn and the Wookiee.”

 

“But not her.” I eye the Herglic closely. “And you know it.”

 

Souffie looks nervous. “I don’t know anything but what I told you.”

 

I place some credits on the table. “How about now?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Do you gamble?” I ask. Herglic are notorious for it.

 

She looks offended. “That’s stereotyping.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Souffie nods reluctantly.

 

“You have debts?”

 

“Yes,” she says quietly.

 

“Name your price,” I say.

 

She hesitates. “I-I can’t reveal this… The Jedi made it clear…”

 

“The Jedi don’t want anyone to know what happened to Zora?” I ask quickly.

 

“T-the Jedi woman told Aga Culpa. He has to say Zora’s dead. We all do. Or else the Republic comes, cracks down on us.”

 

“One Jedi can’t make that happen, Souffie,” I say earnestly. “She was bluffing. Tell me what really happened!”

 

Souffie hesitates. After a moment, she speaks. “Five thousand,” she says quietly.

 

Luckily I’ve got it, having anticipated this eventuality. “Here,” I say, handing the credits over.

 

She quickly takes the money, glancing around the room before she reaches into her pocket. “Take it,” she hisses, holding out a clenched fist.

 

I hold out my hand, palm up, and she drops a holocube into it before squeezing out of the booth.

 

“Please,” she says. “You didn’t get it from me. I have kids to feed.”

 

I nod. “I understand.”

 

Souffie exits the bar as quickly as she can.

 

Now alone, I activate the cube. The picture is grainy, but not so much that the images are unclear.

 

It shows a landing platform that I recognize as Krayn’s. A Republic cruiser identical to the one I’d seen leaving the planet earlier is landing. Three figures stand waiting for it, and the camera zooms in on them. Two are dressed in Jedi robes, and with a shock, I notice that one of them is Obi-Wan Kenobi. The other is a young boy with a padawan braid, who looks to be around the age Obi-Wan was when I first met him.

 

The third figure is a slim woman of average height. Her hair is blonde and cropped short, her face turned away as she talks to the others. She’s dressed in nondescript tunics, not Jedi robes, but there’s a lightsaber hanging from her belt.

 

This must be the “Jedi woman” Souffie had mentioned, the one who had done so much ensure that Zora’s fate was kept hidden.

 

The woman turns and sees the holocam. She brings a hand up to cover her face, but it’s too late. With a shock, I recognize her. It’s Zora.

 

The image freezes, and the clip repeats.

 

She wore a lightsaber. And she had been standing with Obi-Wan and the padawan in obvious camaraderie. She had not been their prisoner.

 

The implications are all too clear. Zora had been lying to me. She had never left the Jedi Order in the first place. I can only assume that she had been working undercover.

 

Had it all been a lie? How much had she been playing me? Had she really cared for me at all?

 

_I made a fool of myself,_ I think. _I actually told her that I loved her. She_ made _me love her, just to humiliate me._

 

But I know this isn’t true, and, surprisingly, I cannot bring myself to be angry with her. Instead, all I feel is… pain. Pain without rage is strange to me, and I want to blame her, to be angry. That would be so much better than this hurt.

 

I stand and exit the bar, trying not to think too much.

* * *

I return to my ship, and once onboard I waste no time in taking off. Nothing else can be gained from remaining on Nar Shaddaa. She’s left this world behind, and I will do the same.

 

I set the coordinates for Prynnash, and after the jump to hyperspace I go to the shipboard computer. I access the Holonet, where it doesn’t take long to find a news story on the liberation of Nar Shaddaa. I skim it until I find what I’m looking for. 

 

_Supreme Chancellor Palpatine traveled to the moon himself to congratulate the three Jedi responsible: Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice Anakin Skywalker, heroes of the Battle of Naboo three years ago, and Jedi Padawan Siri Tachi, who, according to a source in the Senate, had been working undercover in Krayn’s organization for quite some time._

 

It was as I thought, then. She had been an undercover operative. All at once the pieces begin to come together. I’d always wondered why she became a pirate after leaving the Order. She’d seemed somehow too kind for that.

 

_But she knew who I was,_ I think. _And she did not despise me, did not condemn me. She cared for me._

 

But had she truly? Or had that, as well, been a lie?

 

It is impossible to determine. I could dwell on it for the rest of my life and still never ascertain what was in her heart and mind. The only way to do that would be to contact her.

 

A plan begins to form in my mind, but I’m not equipped to carry it out; won’t be until I’m back on Prynnash. I sit restlessly through the rest of the flight. The distance between Prynnash and Nar Shaddaa has never seemed so great, not even when I was going to see Zora, or when I was leaving her behind.

 

_Her name is Siri. Not Zora, Siri._ My eyes fall shut. Why had she lied? How much of it had _been_ a lie? How well do I really know her?

 

I can’t have fallen in love with a lie. I’m smarter than that.

 

_Maybe it’s not love,_ I think suddenly. _If everything was a lie, perhaps my_ feelings _were a lie._ I have so little experience with love- for all I know; it’s a valid possibility.

 

It comes to this: I have to talk to her.

* * *

When I land at the base I immediately go to my private quarters. I’m sure Granta’s done things wrong in my absence, but I lack the will to straighten them out at the moment. My mind is focused entirely on other things.

 

At my computer, I search the Holonet for “Siri Tachi.” Only a few articles come up, most of which are stories regarding missions she’s been on. The report on the Nar Shaddaa liberation had said that she was still a padawan, and I manage to find out that her master is a Jedi Council member named Adi Gallia.

 

Overall, there’s maddeningly little information on Siri herself. To adequately satisfy my curiosity I’d have to travel to Coruscant and hack into the Archives. That would be an exceedingly difficult task for most- for me, it would merely be tricky.

 

But if I were to go to Coruscant, it makes more sense to simply find her, because that’s what I really want. All the information in the galaxy can’t _truly_ satisfy me. I must talk to her.

 

I stand and exit my quarters, heading for the offices. It’s past dinnertime, but I’m not surprised to find Granta at his desk.

 

“Father,” he says, standing as I enter. “Welcome back. I think you’ll find that I’ve kept things in order-“

 

“Good,” I say shortly. “Continue to do so.” I pause. “I leave for Coruscant in the morning.”

 

Granta’s eyes widen. “Coruscant? But, Father, if the authorities discover you-“

 

“I am not an imbecile, Granta,” I say in an irritated tone. “I shall be careful.”

 

“You haven’t gone back to Coruscant since your supposed death,” Granta says. “Why now?”

 

I say nothing.

 

“Zora,” he realizes. Grant shakes his head. “What is it about her, anyway?” he asks, not looking at me.

 

“That is none of your concern,” I reply impassively.

 

He purses his lips. “Why does she matter so much? You’ve never acted like this before.”

 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” I reply tersely.

 

Granta looks up quickly. “You love her?”

 

“I… do not know,” I reply, uncomfortable. I never discuss such things with anyone. Even with Zora- with _Siri_ \- I had rarely divulged my emotions.

 

“What happened to her?” Granta asks.

 

“Are you truly concerned?” I challenge.

 

“Yes!” he protests.

 

“I don’t believe you,” I reply. “You’ve never liked her.”

 

“Does that surprise you?” he spits.

 

“No,” I say. “It merely dismays me that you, a grown man, can still act like a petulant child.”

 

Granta shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

 

“Safe journey, Father,” he says, not opening his eyes. “I’ll keep things going here.”

 

“See that you do,” I reply, leaving the room.

* * *

I’ve long employed an agent on Coruscant for the occasions on which someone needs to represent Offworld’s interests there. He is a Twi’lek named Jeatho, and he meets me when I land.

 

“I was surprised to get your message, sir,” he tells me as we walk to his aircar. “You never come to Coruscant- I thought that was why you had employed me.”

 

“It was,” I reply shortly. “But in this case it could not be avoided.”

 

“Is anything the matter?” Jeatho asks delicately.

 

“Offworld is faring fine,” I say. “It is… a personal matter.”

 

“I see,” he says. He doesn’t pry, which I appreciate. Granta never would have left it so easily.

 

I’ve booked a room in a hotel not too far from the Temple, and I get a good view of it as we head there. The memories that assault me are not unexpected, but their strength is. I distract myself by talking to Jeatho.

 

“You may not hear from me for a few days,” I say. “If I am out of reach, contact Granta and tell him that he is in charge indefinitely.” There is, after all, always the possibility that I will be caught. I do not trust the Jedi to deal fairly with me should I fall into their hands.

 

Jeatho nods slowly. “Forgive me if I’m out of line, sir, but- are you going to be in some kind of danger?”

 

“That depends,” I reply. “I’m not likely to be killed, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“That is comforting,” he says, pulling up to the hotel’s entrance. “Do take care of yourself, sir.”

 

I nod. “I shall certainly try my best.”

 

The hotel is a nice one, and its lobby is grand and spacious. I walk to the front desk and in moments a bored-looking Dug in a burgundy-colored uniform is showing me to my room.

 

“So, you here on business?” he asks, taking my bag.

 

“No,” I reply.

 

“Well, would you look at that? Half the guests in this hotel are here on business,” says the Dug. “From the sound of you you’re from around here. Coming home after a while?”

 

“You… might say that. I’ve only come back to see someone.”

 

He looks at me shrewdly. “Sweetheart?”

 

I’ve dealt with some of the galaxy’s worst scum without batting an eye, so I’m shocked when I find myself looking away from his knowing gaze. The Dug cackles.

 

We reach the turbolift and he keys in the floor number.

 

“So, what’s she like?” asks the Dug.

 

“Excuse me?” I ask.

 

“Apologies,” he says. “I assumed she was a she, but-“

 

I shake my head. “You assumed correctly. I’m just not used to such impertinent questions from the help.”

 

“Oh, that puts me in my place,” he gripes. “Now, you’re not going to complain and get me out of a job, are you?”

 

“That depends.”

 

“On what?”

 

“On whether or not you know what’s good for you,” I say tersely.

 

There’s a moment of silence.

 

“Is she pretty?”

 

“You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation,” I say through my teeth. My hand itches for the hilt of my lightsaber.

 

“That mean no?” he asks obliviously.

 

I sigh. “She’s very pretty.”

 

“You love her?”

 

That’s the second time in two days I’ve gotten that question. Maybe it’s because I’ll never see this Dug again in my life, but I feel as though it’s safer to confide in him than in Granta; who would only hold it against me.

 

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” I say quietly.

 

The Dug nods sagely. The lift pings as we arrive at our floor, and he leads me down the hall.

 

“Here we are,” he says as we arrive at my room. With a swipe of the electronic key over the scanner, the door slides open. The Dug deposits my bag in the center of the room and gives me a little salute.

 

I tip him a few more credits than I’d usually give for a service like this, and he grins at me.

 

“Knew you liked me,” he said cheekily.

 

“What I would like is to never see you again,” I reply dryly.

 

“I know when I’m not wanted,” he tells me. “Best of luck with that girl.” Then he gives me a grin and is gone.

 

Two minutes ago I’d wanted to kill him. Ten years ago I would have. But the creature had actually grown on me.

 

_He’s the sort of being Qui-Gon would have liked,_ I think.

 

Surely I’m not becoming like Qui-Gon. I’ve hated the man for so long- or so I thought. But how long has it been since I’ve truly felt that hate?

 

He killed my father. But I remember Siri’s words on the night we met- _“Qui-Gon killed a corrupt dictator, because he was forced to. It shouldn’t have mattered to you that he was your father.”_ I’d called it Jedi claptrap, and it _is-_ I have the right to care about my own father, no matter what. That I will never deny.

 

But Qui-Gon had done what he thought was right. And while that didn’t make it right, I had to admit that my former master- he…

 

He had been a good man.

 

I sit heavily on the bed; unable to believe where my thoughts have led me. But it’s true. I no longer hate Qui-Gon Jinn. I haven’t for quite some time.

 

I turn to gaze out the window, and laugh bitterly when I find that I’ve been given a room with a view of the Jedi Temple.

 

Enough thoughts of the past- I have an operation to plan. I’ll have to infiltrate the Temple in order to hack into its systems. I’ll do so in the dead of night, and when I’ve discovered where Siri’s quarters are I’ll make my way there, break inside, and…

 

And then, I’ll get what I want. I’ll be able to get some answers.

* * *

The Temple has numerous back doors and secret exits. The last time I’d snuck inside I had found that a few such exits had been closed off since my padawan days. Now I expect that security is tighter than ever, thanks to my previous exploits.

 

But apparently even the havoc I’d wrought during that time was not sufficient lesson for the Jedi. With little difficulty I manage to find a back door in the lower levels that looks to have minimal security. I suppose the Temple’s youth will always need some way to sneak out.

 

A circuit around the perimeter leads me to choose this as the best entrance. I loiter outside in the shadows for hours. My face is hidden and it’s quite likely I’ll go unnoticed. Other beings lurk nearby in a similar fashion. Occasionally they are approached for a quick conversation, which usually ends in a handshake that serves to exchange credits for what I can only assume are packets of spice or some other drug. At twenty-fourth hour, when I begin my observation, beings exit through the door on a fairly infrequent basis. The slow trickle halts altogether from third hour thorough fourth. At fifth hour the door is in use more frequently, and this time beings are going in as well as coming out.

 

One night of surveillance is all that I can stand. It had been torture to stand there for hours, so close to my goal. I’d spent the energy I hadn’t put into observation trying valiantly to think of something to say when I am finally face-to-face with Siri again, but everything seems inadequate. All I want to know is why, and whether or not it had all been a lie.

 

I have almost a full standard day to waste before my mission can begin. I remain in my hotel room but find myself unable to sleep. It’s unlikely that any beings here will recognize me, and I _have_ made the concession of registering under a false name, but I cannot be too careful. One reckless mistake could get me locked up before I have the chance to talk to Siri.

 

It’s a perfectly valid possibility that I’ll be locked up _after_ , I suppose. Truthfully, my mind seems somewhat unable to plan past the moment that she will open her door to find me on the other side, but this is most certainly a possibility that bears thinking about.

 

I have to admit… I don’t think she will betray me. No authorities have come looking for me, so I believe that it is safe to assume that she has not informed the Council that I am alive.

 

It is a risk that I _must_ take. I have to talk to her. Even if she refuses to explain, even if she immediately arrests me herself, it will be _something._ I’ve had considerable experience with Zora at this point. I need to see her as Siri. I need to know if she’s a different woman.

 

I just need to speak with her.

* * *

That night I arrive at my chosen entry point at half-past second hour. A couple of beings exit, and third hour comes and goes. When half a standard hour has passed since the last being exited the Temple, I carefully approach the entrance.

 

There is a recording device over the door, but my scanner detects it. I operate the disruptor function and dart quickly through the door. The disruptor short-circuits the camera for a few seconds, causing the projected picture to blur briefly into static, which is rarely cause for concern. Such disruptions are usually chalked up to temperamental technology and are rarely investigated. There will be nothing suspicious to be seen on whatever monitor is doubtless being watched- until I’d operated the disruptor, I had carefully stayed inside the recorder’s blind spots.

 

Once inside the building, I find that I’m in the maintenance hallways. I know this area well- not from my time living here, but from more recently when I’d attempted to destroy the Temple in its entirety.

 

I’d told Zora- _Siri_ \- that I was not proud of that campaign, and in a way it’s true. My plan had been foolish and far too grand. I see now that my desire for revenge had been too great. But at the same time, I do not regret that I attempted to satisfy that urge to the best of my ability. Destroying the Temple would not have been necessary. But in my attempt to do so I struck fear into the hearts of every Jedi living there, and of _that_ I am proud.

 

The Jedi don’t seem to like it when someone toys with _their_ emotions, for a change. And they _do_ have emotions; even if they pretend otherwise and do their best to stamp them out of their younglings.

 

But there will be time enough to dwell on all of that later. I spy a computer terminal at the end of the hall and quickly access it. It’s no difficulty for me to hack into the system, and soon I’ve gotten into the residential directory. Once there it’s easy to find Siri’s name and the location of her quarters.

 

I know exactly how to get there. I cover my tracks in the computer, exiting out of everything I’ve accessed and bringing the entry screen back up. Then I set off down the corridor.

 

I slow as I reach a door. It will take me out into the main hallways- I’ve come as far as I can in the maintenance corridors. I’ll be relatively close to Siri’s quarters, but I’ll still have three hallways and a lift to traverse before I get there. And although it’s the middle of the night, the Temple never truly sleeps. I’ll simply have to be careful not to be seen.

 

I sense no one in the hallway outside, and when I walk through the doorway I find that it is indeed empty. Soundlessly, I make my way towards the lift at the end of the hall.

 

I slow my steps as I begin to feel that something is wrong. Probing outwards with the Force, I feel a definite presence lurking around the corner near the lift. It’s not just someone walking by- this Jedi is looking for a specific intruder.

 

I swear silently. I thought that I had been so careful! Perhaps there had been a silent alarm. Clearly I had been overconfident and not sufficiently thorough in my planning.

 

I stand motionless for an instant, going over my options. After a brief moment, my enemy comes out of the shadows to face me. At first all I see is a figure in Jedi robes, but when the hood of the cloak is thrown back I recognize him at once.

 

“Naturally, it would be you,” I sigh.

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi looks at me grimly. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

 

“Yes,” I agree. “But I always have a way out.”

 

It’s a false lead- it had been thanks to no action of mine that I had survived that day. But I was _not_ going to admit that to Kenobi.

 

“And I suppose you have a way out of this?” he asks.

 

“Several,” I reply. “The most appealing of which involves killing you and continuing about my business.”

 

“I’ve alerted Temple security,” Kenobi says. “They will be here shortly.”

 

I smile grimly. “They’ll be no match for me. But perhaps I ought to dispatch you before they arrive, just to be certain.”

 

“You are welcome to try,” Kenobi tells me calmly. “I will not allow you to-“

 

I interrupt him with a laugh. “You don’t even know why I’m here.”

 

“I can guess,” he replies.

 

“I think not,” I say. “Any harm I could cause to the Jedi would be a mere bonus in this case. My true purpose here is not malicious.”

 

“I find that difficult to believe.”

 

“I don’t blame you. Undoubtedly you have been left in the dark.”

 

Kenobi’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

 

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should bring her name into this. Finally the prospect of Kenobi’s reaction to the truth is irresistible.

 

“Siri Tachi,” I say.

 

He tenses. “What of her?” he demands harshly.

 

I smile mockingly. Does he still love her?

 

I ignore the part of myself that asks: _If he still loves her, does_ she _still love_ him? _Is that another thing she lied about?_

 

“I wish to speak with her,” I say casually.

 

“What business would you have with Siri?” Kenobi asks cautiously.

 

I smile suggestively. “Oh, we’ve had all kinds of… _business.”_

 

“I see no reason to believe you,” he says calmly.

 

“Believe what you wish,” I say in an offhand manner. “The fact remains: I will speak with her.”

 

“Why?” he demands.

 

“Because we have unfinished business,” I say.

 

“I was not aware that any business had been started,” Kenobi replies, but he doesn’t sound as casual as he’s trying to.

 

“She was away for two years, Kenobi,” I say, beginning to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. “How much has she told you?”

 

He doesn’t respond.

 

“It was my good fortune to meet her,” I say. “We grew… _fond_ of each other.”

 

Kenobi grits his teeth. “I do not believe you.”

 

“No?”

 

“She wouldn’t.”

 

“Why not?” I ask. “She wanted it. Wanted _me._ ” I smile at him as I play my trump card. “Clearly, she did not want you.”

 

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

 

“She’s your weak point, isn’t she?” I ask softly. “Your feelings for her?”

 

“My feelings are irrelevant. Security will be here soon, and you will be put away for a very long time,” he tells me.

 

In a flash my lightsaber is ignited in my hand. “I think not.”

 

He draws his own weapon, and in an instant we’ve crossed blades. He’s become a good swordsman. I myself have kept in practice, though it’s difficult with only droids to spar against. I’m probably still good enough to kill him, though, and I want to. I want to kill him because he loves her.

 

But she wouldn’t forgive me. Suddenly the urge to kill is gone. Destroying Kenobi would alienate Siri, and defeat my entire purpose for coming here. I have to decide what’s more important- my hate for Kenobi, or my feelings for Siri- whatever those may be.

 

In wonder, I realize that there’s no contest. I extinguish my ‘saber.

 

“Fighting you is not in my best interest,” I declare.

 

His eyes narrow. “I will not let you go.”

 

I nod. “I understand.”

 

“So you turn yourself in?”

 

It’s my turn to take a deep breath. “On one condition.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Tell Siri I’ve come here before you alert the Council. Tell her that I only wish to speak to her,” I say softly.

 

Kenobi extinguishes his lightsaber, giving me a probing look. “What do you want with her?”

 

“I’ve told you,” I say.

 

“There’s always something you want. You always want revenge-“

 

He breaks off as the lift pings and two Jedi exit. Their eyes widen as they presumably recognize me.

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Obi-Wan says. “The intruder has given himself up. Neril, would you fetch a Force-inhibiting collar? Tralis and I can stay here with the prisoner.”

 

Neril, a Nautolan, nods and returns to the lift.

 

“My desire for revenge has faded,” I tell Kenobi. “I only want-“ I break off. _I only want her,_ I had been about to say, but my pride won’t let me finish.

 

“I don’t trust you,” he says. “You can be sure I’ll get her side of the story.”

 

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask. “How has she been, since she’s returned from her mission?”

 

Kenobi looks surprised for a moment before an accusing expression settles on his face. “She hasn’t been the same. I can only imagine what you did to her.”

 

“I did nothing against her consent,” I say.

 

“We will see,” he replies, holding a hand out.

 

Hating him, and myself, I surrender my lightsaber. Tralis, the other Jedi, brings out a pair of binders and puts them on me. I let him, wondering how my life has lead me to this place.

 

_It is the will of the Force,_ Siri would say.

 

I wish I knew what the Force wanted with me, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d really like to know what you guys thought of Xan’s POV. Was it believable in the context of the story? Was it consistent with the way he’s portrayed from Siri’s POV?


	9. Guilty As Charged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re going back in time here, as you’ll be able to tell. This chapter takes place at the same time as the last one.

_Guilty as charged, you were on my mind_

_Try as I might I can’t seem to lie_

_I can love you back if you like_

_I can hold you back if you like_

 

_So I go back home to be by myself_

_I try everything I ever read_

_Desperate I still can’t get you out of my head_

_-Tegan and Sara_

* * *

(Siri)

 

It takes us two standard days to get back to Coruscant.

 

Obi-Wan and I spend much time together. When I’m with him, it’s easier to keep the thoughts of Xanatos at bay.

 

Anakin spends most of _his_ time with the Chancellor, and Obi-Wan tells me how he worries over their friendship.

 

“He’s unable to be impartial where Palpatine’s actions are concerned,” he says to me. “I dread the day when he becomes disillusioned with his ‘friend.’”

 

“Maybe that day won’t come,” I suggest.

 

“I hope not,” Obi-Wan says. “But the man is a politician, and I don’t trust him.”

 

The ship is set to Coruscant time, so on the first night cycle after we leave Nar Shaddaa, none of us are tired. Obi-Wan sends Anakin to bed anyway.

 

“A Jedi must take their sleep when they can, whether they are tired or not,” he tells his apprentice.

 

The boy looks like he wants to argue, but merely bids his master and me goodnight and heads off towards the sleeping quarters.

 

“You make a good master,” I tell Obi-Wan.

 

He shrugs. “I’m glad someone thinks so. I, for one, am not entirely certain that Anakin will end up in his bed at all this night.”

 

“He’s twelve. They tend not to listen at that age,” I say. “It isn’t your fault.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugs. “Well, you and I ought to get some sleep as well, I suppose.”

 

I snort. “Are you tired? I’m certainly not.”

 

“We have to adjust our internal clocks,” Obi-Wan argues. “And it’s far more efficient to do that by going to sleep when we aren’t tired than by staying awake until we collapse in exhaustion.”

 

“You go to bed, then,” I tell him. “The latter sounds more appealing to me.”

 

I am _not_ about to go lie awake in my bed only to toss and turn. I’ll never be able to keep my mind off of Xanatos under those conditions.

 

“You’re as willful as my padawan,” Obi-Wan mutters. “I suppose you’d like me to keep you company?”

 

“You can do what you want,” I say airily.

 

“I’ll stay with you, if you like,” he offers.

 

I look at him in surprise. “Despite the importance of ‘adjusting our internal clocks?’”

 

“It’s more important to be there for a friend,” Obi-Wan says softly.

 

I smile. “If you insist.”

 

He nods solemnly.

 

“Oh, this ought to be fun,” I say, sarcasm lacing my tone. “We’ll stay up all night cycle. You can tell me scary stories while I paint your toenails, and then we can share our deepest, darkest secrets.”

 

Obi-Wan smiles mischievously. “What if I don’t want to tell you my secrets?”

 

My mouth opens in a delighted grin. “Oh, so you _have_ some? Are Jedi even _supposed_ to have dark secrets?”

 

“You tell me,” he fires back.

 

My grin vanishes as his shot hits a little too close to home. “I’ve been away for a while,” I say, averting my gaze. “Maybe I’ve forgotten a few things.”

 

A moment passes, and then I feel a gentle hand on my upper arm.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan says.

 

“Wish I could be sure of that,” I mutter. “It will be so strange to be back at the Temple. It’s been _two years,_ Obi-Wan!”

 

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” he says. “You must be glad to be going back.”

 

“Of course I am,” I say, tone somewhat lacking conviction. “It’s just that a lot has happened.”

 

“You’re not the same person that you were,” Obi-Wan guesses. “Your experiences have changed you.”

 

I nod.

 

“I’m sure it’s for the better,” he offers.

 

“I’m not,” I reply.

* * *

When we arrive on Coruscant, I find that it hasn’t changed. It’s the same glinting silver cityscape it’s been all my life. I’d thought that the sight of the world would either be strange and foreign or warm and comforting, but it’s neither. It’s just there.

 

Anakin pops up beside me at the viewport. “Is it weird for you to be back?” he asks.

 

“Yes, Anakin,” I reply. “It is.”

 

“I bet you missed it, huh?”

 

_Not too much, in the last year or so._ “Yes,” I say. “But… you know.” I shrug. “As Jedi, it wouldn’t behoove us to get too attached to the Temple, since we’re always having to leave it.”

 

“Precisely,” says Obi-Wan, walking up to join us. “I’ve informed the Council that we’ll be arriving shortly; they wish to see us at once.”

 

“Wizard,” Anakin declares. “I bet they’re pretty impressed with us, huh Siri?”

 

“It’s possible,” I reply doubtfully. “It takes a lot to impress the Jedi Council.”

 

“Yeah, but we liberated an entire world, and rid the galaxy of a major threat!” he exclaims. “Surely that’s worth something.”

 

“Yes,” I agree. “I expect that it is.”

 

Anakin wanders off then, but Obi-Wan remains by my side. We look out the viewport in silence, watching our descent towards one of the Temple’s many landing platforms.

 

We’d talked much over the course of our flight. Obi-Wan hadn’t asked too much about my mission, for which I’m grateful. Instead, he’d told me of goings-on in the Temple, and in his own life. It had been nice to listen to someone else’s troubles for a while.

 

The ship lands, and I walk off, breathing in deeply. The air is much better than on Nar Shaddaa, thanks to Coruscant’s many air purifiers, though it doesn’t compare to the fresh, salty breeze of Prynnash.

 

_Maybe it’s better not to think about Prynnash,_ I tell myself. _I’m back at the Temple now. Time to go back to my old life._

 

Obi-Wan exits the ship right behind me, and we wait a few moments for Anakin. When he comes bounding down the boarding ramp, we head inside the Temple. Looking around, I find that it hasn’t changed. It’s exactly the same, which only serves to remind me that I am not.

 

_Oh, now stop it,_ I admonish myself. _This is my home. I’m glad to be back here._

 

The halls are fairly crowded. I see one or two other Jedi that I know, but they don’t appear to recognize me. Have I changed that much? I suddenly have the uneasy feeling that the Council will take one look at me and know all of my secrets. That would be disastrous.

 

We take a lift up to the Council chambers. Upon arriving, the door slides open for us immediately.

 

“All of you may come in, please,” Mace Windu’s voice says over the intercom.

 

We walk to the center of the room and bow to the Council. I look towards my master, and she gives me a rare smile. I have to wonder if she’s missed me. I like to think she has- I’ve certainly missed her and the wisdom she so often provided me- but she would be the first to tell me that Jedi do not form attachments.

 

“Welcome back,” Master Windu tells us.

 

“Owe you a debt, the galaxy does,” says Yoda. “No small matter, the destruction of Krayn’s empire is.”

 

We move on to business then, just as we would at any other debrief. When we’ve finished recounting the events of the mission and answering the Council’s questions, Master Windu tells Obi-Wan and Anakin that they may go, asking me to remain.

 

“This Council is very impressed with your performance, Siri,” Master Windu tells me.

 

“Proved yourself under very trying conditions, you have,” Yoda says. “For you to gather information only, was the intent. Change, the circumstances of the mission did, and able to change with them, you were. Happen often, such things do, but uncommon it is for them to occur on such a scale.”

 

“You have done a great service to the Republic. Beings all over the galaxy will be safer without the threat of Krayn,” adds Ki-Adi Mundi.

 

“And that could not have been accomplished without you,” my master says warmly. “The Council is pleased to inform you that we have decided that you are worthy of elevation to the rank of Jedi Knight.”

 

I had forgotten about the likelihood that they would Knight me. My mind has been on other things. And now, the moment is here.

 

I have been working towards and dreaming of this moment for literally my entire life. From the time I was a youngling in the crèche, my only desire had been to be a Jedi Knight. I wasn’t alone- _all_ of us wanted that. As children we played make-believe games with stuffed creatures, but instead of the tea parties other younglings across the galaxy favored, we would create imaginary Knighting ceremonies.

 

After all of that preparation, I have exactly the right response. I bow low. “Thank you, Masters,” I say. “I am honored.”

 

“You will doubtless wish to spend the rest of the day and the night in meditation,” Master Windu says. “A chamber will be prepared for you below the Hall of Knighthood.”

 

“Thank you, Master.”

 

“Need to begin the meditation at once, you do not,” Yoda tells me. “Away for a long time, you have been. Time you should take to see old friends.”

 

“Yes, Master, I plan to do that,” I reply.

 

“We’ll let you get going, then,” says Master Windu.

 

I bow once again and exit the chamber, going to the lift.

 

Jedi Knight. I don’t know what to think, or feel. Shouldn’t I be excited? I had always assumed that would be my reaction, but I don’t feel that way now. I feel… guilty.

 

Yoda had said that I’ve proved myself under trying conditions, but what no one knows is that I _haven’t._ Under trying conditions I had caved and had a relationship with a man who had tried to destroy the very Order I’m a part of. Now that I’m back here at the Temple, it’s so much easier to remember all that Xanatos has done, as well as all of the reasons why I shouldn’t have become involved with him to begin with.

 

_Well, all of that is behind me now,_ I tell myself as the turbolift descends. _I will move on._

 

I’m so determinedly resolving to do this that I’ve barely noticed that my feet have taken me to Obi-Wan’s quarters. And why shouldn’t they have? Obi-Wan was a good friend on the journey from Nar Shaddaa, and now that I’ve eradicated all romantic feelings I once had for him, we’re able to be friends.

 

I press the bell, and a few moments later the door slides away to reveal Obi-Wan.

 

“Siri!” he says, sounding pleased to see me. “How are you?”

 

I nod slowly. “I’m alright.”

 

“Please, come in.”

 

I walk inside. The rooms are not large. “Are you all by yourself here?”

 

He nods. “I thought it was important for Anakin to live in the Initiate’s hall for now, so he can be around people his own age.”

 

“I suppose so,” I agree.

 

“So,” Obi-Wan says after a moment. “What did the Council have to say?”

 

“Well… they’re Knighting me,” I say.

 

“Siri, that’s incredible!” Obi-Wan says. He’s more excited about my Knighting than I am.

 

“Isn’t it?” I ask with a smile.

 

It’s easier just to fake the emotion they all expect from me.

* * *

The only other friend I have who’s currently onplanet is Bant. She’s just as excited for me as Obi-Wan.

 

“It’s so good to see you, Siri!” she says. “I knew it couldn’t be true.”

 

“What do you mean?” I ask.

 

“That you had left the Jedi, and joined up with Krayn,” she replies.

 

I blink. “So… you didn’t believe what the Council said?” That’s unlike her.

 

“Well… it wasn’t that I thought they were lying. I didn’t even consider that. But… I knew you wouldn’t leave the Order. What they said about you, it just… felt false.”

 

This comment stays with me long after I leave Bant and go to the chamber that’s been made ready for me. I’m happy that there was someone who believed in me. I’m kind of hurt that Obi-Wan didn’t, until the end.

 

I kneel on the meditation dais in the small chamber and clear my mind. It’s something I don’t doas often as I should, and I have to force myself to be still so that I can drift into meditation.

 

In time I sink deep, and when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder, I know that hours have passed. I surface slowly to see my Master’s face.

 

“It is time, Siri,” she says softly. “Are you ready?”

 

I try to speak but find that my voice is dry. I swallow and clear my throat. “Give me a few moments, please?”

 

Adi nods. “Of course. I’ll be outside.” She exits the room.

 

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. My meditation has calmed me considerably. Soon, I will be a Jedi Knight. Maybe it’s selfish of me to think so, but I feel that it’s a title I’ve earned, even though I have not always behaved as a Jedi should.

 

As a Knight, I will owe my allegiance only to the Force. I shall serve the Force, and _not_ my own desires. Jedi do not form attachments, and I will not do so ever again. Attachments only lead to misery. I believe I’ve thoroughly learned that lesson.

 

I stand, noticing that my master has brought me a set of Jedi robes- robes I haven’t worn for two years. Slowly, I put them on. The garments are intimately familiar, and for the first time since my return, I truly feel like I’ve come home.

 

I run a hand through my hair. It’s on the short side and none too evenly cut. I’ve never been vain, but for once the state of my hair is of great concern to me. The cutting of the padawan braid is a very poignant part of the Knighting ceremony, a part I’m unwilling to go without. So I separate out three thin strands of hair and quickly braid them together.

 

Then I leave the small chamber. Adi takes a long look at me, finally breaking into a smile.

 

“Come,” she says fondly. “They are ready for you.”

 

In what feels like no time at all, we have arrived at the Hall of Knighting. The door slides open as we approach. It is dark inside the chamber. Adi strides inside, and I follow her with no hesitation.

 

I can sense that the entire Council is here, standing in a ring in the middle of the hall. I walk into the circle and stop in the center. Although it’s too dark to see, I know that Master Yoda is directly in front of me.

 

There is a moment of silence, and then every Council member simultaneously ignites their lightsabers, pointing them at the floor. In the pale light created, I can see that every master except for Yoda has their hood raised. This doesn’t keep me from identifying them- their places in the circle correspond with their seats in the Council chamber, which helps- but it does create a more somber environment.

 

Yoda speaks. “All Jedi, we are. Speak through us, the Force does. Proclaim itself and what is real through our actions, the Force does. Here today to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed, we are.”

 

Yoda raises his lightsaber so that it is held straight in front of him. He meets my eyes. “Step forward, Padawan.”

 

I move a step closer and kneel before Yoda, detaching my own lightsaber from my belt and placing it on the ground before me.

 

“Siri Tachi,” he says. “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Jedi-“ Here Yoda severs my braid with one quick movement of his lightsaber. “Knight of the Republic, I dub thee.”

 

Adi’s voice comes from my left. “Take up your lightsaber, Siri Tachi, Jedi Knight,” she says. “And may the Force be with you.”

 

I stand, replacing my ‘saber. Together, the Council raises their lightsabers in a salute.

 

Then the lights come on, and the ceremony is officially over. Most of the Council members begin to file out of the room. Adi approaches me, lowering her hood.

 

“I am very proud of you, Siri,” she says, placing a hand on my arm.

 

I smile. This is no small thing, coming from her. “Thank you,” I reply.

 

“Much have you both to take pride in,” Yoda says. “Accomplish a great deal, I think our new Knight will.”

 

“Remember always that you serve the Republic,” MasterWindu tells me gravely.

 

I nod. “Yes, Master.”

 

The room empties until Adi and I are left alone.

 

“You have been assigned your own quarters,” she tells me. “I’ve kept your things as you left them. You may move them whenever you want.”

 

“I suppose I’ll do it now,” I say.

 

Adi nods. “I will accompany you. I can offer you assistance if you wish, but I do not have much time to spare. I leave for a mission in a few hours.”

 

“Oh,” I say. It’s strange to think of my master (my _former_ master, now) going on missions without me, though I know she must have done so while I was away. “Well, I don’t think I’ll need much help.”

 

It turns out that I don’t. All of my possessions fit into a few boxes. Within an hour I’ve moved everything into my new quarters. I say goodbye to Adi before she leaves and then return to unpack everything, which doesn’t take long either.

 

My new quarters are small, designed for only one being, containing only a sitting area, kitchenette, bedroom, and ‘fresher. I find myself standing in the middle of the main room without any idea of what to do with myself.

 

My quarters are close to Bant’s. She lives alone as well, having been Knighted in my absence. I might as well go and visit her, since she’s nearby.

 

Bant once again seems pleased to see me.

 

“You’re a Knight now!” she exclaims. “That’s so exciting!”

 

I smile. “Yes, I suppose so.”

 

“I was just about to go to the commissary for midday meal,” Bant says. “Would you care to join me?”

 

“Sure,” I say.

 

We set off. As we walk, something occurs to me.

 

“Bant?” I ask as we enter the dining hall and join the line of Jedi waiting for food.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Isn’t it customary for a newly-Knighted Jedi to have a bit of a celebration?”

 

She nods. “It’s often done.”

 

“Alright then,” I decide, beginning to feel excited. “You can come with me tonight. We’ll go out and… I don’t know, find a bar or something.”

 

Bant looks apologetic. “I wish I could, Siri,” she tells me. “But I’m leaving for a mission today- my transport departs in a few hours.”

 

“Oh,” I deflate a bit. “I see.”

 

“But I’m sure there are lots of others who would love to celebrate with you!”

 

“Most of my friends are offplanet, but… I suppose I could ask Obi-Wan.”

 

By now we’ve reached the front of the line. Bant is ahead of me, and as she speaks she doesn’t meet my eyes, focusing instead on taking her plate of food from the serving droid. Today they’re serving some type of fowl with a creamy sauce and a side of vegetables.

 

“So… you and Obi-Wan are friends, now?” Bant asks.

 

“Well, yeah,” I say, taking a plate of my own. “I mean, it’s true that we’d hardly seen each other for years, but then- well, you know how he showed up in the middle of my mission. We ended up working together. So, yes, we’re friends.”

 

Bant and I exit the food line and sit down at an empty table.

 

“Well, I’m sure Obi-Wan’s happy about that,” Bant says.

 

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

 

She pauses for a moment; fork halfway out of her mouth. There’s a silent moment as she chews and swallows.

 

“When we were told that you’d left the Jedi,” she says finally. “Obi-Wan was… upset.”

 

“Oh. Well, I was upset when _he_ left the Order, and we barely even knew each other then,” I tell her.

 

“Yes, but-“ Bant purses her lips. “I think he felt betrayed. It was obvious that… he cared about you.”

 

“Oh, I see.” This clarifies a few things. Bant had had faith in me when I had ostensibly left the Order, but she had never loved me. It would have been much easier for her to be objective than it would have been for Obi-Wan.

 

“There was a little while there, years and years ago, when Obi-Wan and I got pretty close,” I tell her, trying not to get too specific. If Obi-Wan has kept to the promise we’d made all those years ago, he won’t have told Bant of the feelings we’d had for each other. “We didn’t see very much of each other after that, but I guess he remembered it when he heard the news.”

 

“Yes, I think he did,” she agrees. “Well, I certainly hope that the two of you can continue to be friends. You always did have rather a lot in common, you know.”

 

“What?” I cry. “We were complete opposites as adolescents!”

 

“On the surface, maybe,” Bant says with a playful grin.

 

I laugh. “Well, I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

I walk Bant back to her quarters and bid her goodbye, wishing her luck on her mission. It’s the second such farewell I’ve said today.

 

“It’s just trade negotiations,” Bant tells me. “Nothing too difficult, I hope.” She laughs. “For the longest time after I was Knighted, I would get so nervous right before I left on a mission, if I was going by myself. But I’m pretty used to it now. Once I get a little more used to it, maybe I’ll take a padawan! But now I’m getting ahead of myself.”

 

_I won’t have that problem on_ my _first mission as a Knight,_ I think as I leave. _What could be much harder than two years alone and undercover?_

 

I wonder when the Council will send me on another mission, and what that mission will be. Virtually no Jedi escapes the occasional boring trade negotiation, but now that I’ve helped bring down Krayn, perhaps the Council will assign me missions that call for something of a repeat performance. I’ve become a bit of an expert in covert ops, at the very least, so there’s likely more of that in my future.

 

I’m okay with that. Those sorts of missions are unlikely to be boring, at the very least. They also tend to be more dangerous, but I don’t think that’s a bad trade-off. I can handle myself quite well, after all. I’m proficient with a few types of weapons, not just a lightsaber.

 

A thought occurs to me then. I’ve been gone for _two years._ I’ve hardly been a Jedi at _all_ for two years. I haven’t _practiced my lightsaber skills_ in _two years._

 

It only takes me a moment to decide on the best course of action to remedy this. Immediately upon returning to my quarters, I look up Kassa Iteron.

 

I wouldn’t call the other Jedi my friend, exactly. We began spending time together shortly after Obi-Wan and I pledged to forget our feelings. I purposely befriended her at the time- back then, she’d been without question better at achieving the ideal Jedi calm and detachment than any of our peers, and I’d envied that ability. Blocking out my feelings for Obi-Wan had _hurt._ I had wanted to learn Kassa’s secret.

 

In addition to her model demeanor, Kassa Iteron is also probably one of the best with a lightsaber in the Order. I’ve always been good with a ‘saber, but I’ve never been on her level. Still, I need somebody to whip me back into shape, and Kassa’s _good_ at that kind of stuff. She sure as hell won’t take pity on me.

 

Finding Kassa’s comm frequency in the directory, I go ahead and contact her.

 

“Kassa Iteron,” she says by way of greeting.

 

“Hello!” I reply. “This is Siri.”

 

“Siri?”

 

“That’s right!”

 

There’s a brief silence. “Siri _Tachi?”_

 

“Yeah.”

 

Another pause. “Why are you contacting me, Siri?”

 

There isn’t usually much emotion in Kassa’s tone _(There is no emotion, there is peace,_ after all), but I’m detecting a definite frostiness here. I think I know what’s going on.

 

“I take it you haven’t heard the news,” I say. “I’m back at the Temple. I never left the Order in the first place- I was on an undercover mission. You’ve heard about the downfall of the slave raider Krayn? That was me. Well, me and some help, but the point is that I was undercover with his organization the entire time. Anyway, I’m back now.”

 

Kassa doesn’t say anything.

 

“It’s true,” I continue. “You can ask the Council. They even Knighted me and everything.”

 

“I sense no deception from you,” Kassa says after a moment.

 

“Great,” I reply, rolling my eyes slightly. “Anyway, Kassa, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor…”

* * *

Four hours later I find myself wishing I’d never contacted her.

 

“I need another break,” I huff, as Kassa raises her ‘saber into the ready position once more.

 

The Togruta purses her lips slightly. “You may not always have the luxury of taking a break,” she says, following me to the benches at the side of the practice room. “Endurance and stamina are just as important as skill, you know.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to help me with my endurance,” I reply, collapsing onto a bench. “I asked you to help get me back into shape.”

 

Kassa sits beside me. She doesn’t appear tired at all. “You’re not _that_ out of shape,” she tells me. “You should set up a training schedule with Master Drallig or one of the other ‘saber instructors. It won’t take you long to return to peak form again.”

 

“Well, good,” I remark. “That’s something, at least.”

 

The door opens then, and a young padawan starts to enter the room. He stops when he sees us.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s just, ah, my master reserved this room for us for seventeenth hour…” He trails off.

 

I straighten, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Is it that late already?” I exclaim.

 

“We’ll clear out of here,” Kassa tells the padawan.

 

“Listen Kassa, thanks so much for helping me,” I say quickly, before she can suggest that we find another room. “But I was Knighted today, and I want to go celebrate, you know?”

 

“Ah, yes,” she replies. “Well, I’m happy I could be of help.”

 

“Do you want to come with me?” I ask, knowing she’ll probably refuse.

 

“No, thank you,” she says. “You have fun.”

 

“Thanks!” I say with a grin. “I fully intend to.”

 

I return to my quarters, where I comm Obi-Wan.

 

“Come celebrate with me,” I demand.

 

“Ah…” He hesitates. “When?”

 

“Half an hour?”

 

“What? Siri!” He sighs, sounding frustrated. “I can’t just drop everything and go out with you.”

 

“What are you doing that’s so important, then?”

 

“I have a padawan to set an example for.”

 

“You’ll be setting a great example. You’ll be spending time with someone your own age. Isn’t that just what you want Anakin to do?” I feel that this is a very good point.

 

“Well, yes-” Obi-Wan still sounds frustrated.

 

“Oh, come on!” I exclaim. “Your apprentice doesn’t have to know what we’re _doing,_ does he?”

 

Obi-Wan heaves another sigh, and in this one I can hear resignation. “And what, exactly, is that going to be?” he asks.

 

I grin widely. “You’ll see. I’ll be over there soon, I just have to shower and find something to wear. It’ll give you time to do that as well.”

 

“What are you giving me time to do?”

 

I smirk. “Dig into your closet. Find clothing. You’re not wearing Jedi robes.”

* * *

In the end Obi-Wan and I are by far the least impressively dressed beings in the bar we wind up in. I’m wearing a black ensemble that’s practically a unisuit, and Obi-Wan’s clothes- well. They aren’t Jedi robes, but they’re equally boring.

 

The bar isn’t exactly high-scale, but it’s not filled with drunkards and slobs, either. We’d begun by taking an airtaxi to an area of the city that is filled with bars and clubs (of both good and ill repute), and upon getting there we’d walked around until I dragged Obi-Wan into this one, because I like the sound of the band that’s playing.

 

Upon entering, we approach the bar. “You’re treating me, right?” Not waiting for a response, I continue. “Get me a Death in the Afternoon. I’ll find us a place to sit.”

 

Obi-Wan shows up at the booth I’ve selected a few minutes later. He slides my drink across the table to me and takes a sip of his own.

 

I take a sip of my drink. “Ah, that’s nice,” I sigh.

 

Obi-Wan’s looking at me with an expression of slight disapproval. “I suppose being among those slavers and pirates for so long is what gave you this taste for heavy drinking?”

 

I shrug. “Maybe.”

 

“Well,” Obi-Wan raises his glass. “Here’s to Jedi Knight Siri Tachi.”

 

I grin, clanking his glass with mine. “I still can’t believe I’ve actually been Knighted,” I confess.

 

“You deserve it.”

 

“I suppose so,” I reply.

 

“You must be glad to be back here,” Obi-Wan says. “You were gone for quite a while.”

 

“Tell me about it,” I agree.

 

“I’m glad-“ He breaks off. “Well, I’m glad about a lot of things, I suppose. I’m glad you’re back, first of all. I’m glad you didn’t really leave the Order. And… I’m very glad that we’re friends again.”

 

I smile at him. “Me, too. It sure took us long enough.”

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agrees. A moment goes by, and then he continues. “You know, I’ve missed you. Not just while you’ve been away, but for all these years we’ve barely spoken.”

 

“I missed you, too,” I reply. “I forgot how much I enjoyed your company.”

 

There’s a lull in the conversation when neither one of us knows what to say.

 

“I feel bad, Siri,” Obi-Wan says after a few moments. “If I had just stopped to think about it when I was first told that you’d left the Jedi… I would have realized it wasn’t true. You’d never leave the Order, and you’d certainly never take up with a slaver.”

 

I smile understandingly. “It’s alright, Obi-Wan,” I tell him. “You had no reason to think that the Council wasn’t telling the truth.”

 

“Yes, but-“ He appears frustrated. “If I had looked at the situation rationally, I would have saved myself a lot of distress. But I _couldn’t_ look at it rationally. My emotional reaction was too strong.”

 

I nod. “I understand.”

 

And I do. Strong emotional reactions are familiar to me. I can imagine very well how Obi-Wan must have felt. He had been hurt, maybe even angry. Every time anyone so much as mentioned my name, those feelings would have been dredged up again. No wonder he hadn’t thought too much about the matter- the subject had been painful for him.

 

It had never really occurred to me that my mission had also been difficult for the people I’d left behind. I suppose the thought may have occurred to me once or twice, but I’d told myself that they would be fine, because, as Jedi, they weren’t supposed to form attachments.

 

Obi-Wan takes a gulp of his drink. “I suppose I just feel guilty. I think I knew in my heart all along that none of it was true.”

 

At that moment, the realization finally hits me. Part of me feels like a fool, but it’s a very small part, because the rest of me is reeling.

 

It’s been obvious the entire time. The way he’s been acting, the things Bant said- she must have known, even though I doubt Obi-Wan ever explicitly told her. And when we talked today, she realized that I hadn’t figured it out yet, so she didn’t give him away.

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi is in love with me. Could it be that he’s _still_ in love with me, because he never _stopped_ loving me? Has he loved me for all these years?

 

I quickly look away from him. My eyes roam around the rest of the bar as I try to look anywhere but right in front of me.

 

_This is, actually, a rather nice place;_ some detached part of my mind is able to note. _Very tastefully decorated. The band is good, too. Come to think of it, this is exactly the kind of place Xan would like._

 

I let my eyes fall shut. My realization about Obi-Wan had been just startling enough to knock down the precarious house of Sabacc cards I’d built for myself. I had successfully avoided thinking about Xanatos all day. I’d foolishly thought that going to my Knighting with no thoughts of him would enable me to forget what we’d had. Clearly, I’ve been deluding myself.

 

There’s another revelation knocking at my door: I miss him. I miss Xan. I’ve been pushing the fact away for days, to no avail.

 

Maybe there’s a reason I’ve been spending so much time with Obi-Wan: part of me _knew_ that he loved me. Oh, I wouldn’t let myself realize it consciously, of course, because then I’d have to admit yet another truth: I’ve been using him.

 

Without Xanatos, there’s a definite hole in my life. I’ve been trying to fill that hole with another, but of course that isn’t working- I have no romantic feelings for Obi-Wan. It’s _Xanatos_ that I need.

 

“Siri?” Obi-Wan sounds concerned. “Siri, are you alright?”

 

“I’m tired,” I say, without opening my eyes. “Let’s just go home.”

* * *

Despite my excuse for leaving the bar, it takes me a long time to get to sleep that night. By the time I finally drift off into a fitful doze, sunlight has already begun to bathe the cityscape in light. When I awake a few hours later, I don’t feel very rested.

 

I eat a late breakfast and then set up a meeting with Cin Drallig. He’s able to see me right away, and we set up a schedule for me to get my ‘saber skills back on track. This takes up the rest of the morning.

 

As I’m heading back to my quarters, my comm signals.

 

“Yes?”

 

The voice that answers is both familiar and entirely unexpected. “Siri, it’s Sandra.”

 

I blink. “Really?”

 

She laughs. “Yes, really. Surprised to hear from me?”

 

“Well… yes, actually. My mission’s over.”

 

“I know that,” she scoffs. “I’m not allowed to check up on my favorite operative?”

 

“I’m… your favorite?” I ask, startled.

 

Sandra laughs. “Of all time? Maybe not. But you’re definitely one of the most successful operatives I’ve ever had.”

 

“Oh,” I say, feeling pleased with myself. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she replies. “Congratulations on your Knighting, by the way. I saw that one coming months ago, but I didn’t want to say anything to you in case the Council decided to be stupid- I mean, decided you weren’t ready yet. Anyway, you’ve more than earned it.”

 

“Thanks, Sandra,” I say, smiling.

 

“You’re welcome. Okay, getting to the point- you’ll never guess where I am right now.”

 

“Um… Nar Shaddaa?”

 

“Nope- right here in the Temple.”

 

My eyebrows raise. “Really? I didn’t think you ever came to the Temple.”

 

“I do occasionally. If I’m anywhere near Coruscant the Council usually starts ‘suggesting’ that I stop by and see them.”

 

“Oh,” I say. “Well, what were you doing in this area of the galaxy, even?”

 

“One of my operatives’ covers got blown, and they needed extraction. The Council’s given me a fast ship and I was only a couple parsecs away,” she answers.

 

“So you were dropping them back here.”

 

“Exactly. I’ve got to go see the Council now, but after that… do you want to do midday meal? I know this great little café around here.”

 

“I’d love to,” I say.

 

“Perfect!” Sandra sounds pleased. “I’ll comm you when the Council’s done with me.”

 

She gets back to me in under an hour, and we arrange meet at one of the Temple’s landing platforms. Sandra’s already there when I arrive, and she greets me with a smile.

 

It’s odd to see her in person. Virtually all of our communication has been via comlink. We’ve only met face-to-face a few times- first just before I got in with Krayn’s operation, and then again on a couple of occasions when Sandra had come to Nar Shaddaa.

 

Almost every time I see her, she’s assumed a different appearance. Being a proxy, she rarely gets missions of her own. Instead she goes undercover as an ordinary citizen of some planet, living what appears from the outside to be a perfectly normal life. This way, when one of her operatives needs her, she can be there immediately.

 

This time, Sandra appears younger than her true age. Her hair is brown and shoulder-length, and she’s dressed in casual clothing- not Jedi robes, despite the fact that we’re in the Temple.

 

Sandra notices me looking her over. “Pretty boring ensemble this time, I know. I don’t get to have close-cropped pink hair very often anymore.”

 

I laugh. “You look very normal.”

 

“Well, that’s the idea,” she says, sticking out an arm to hail an approaching airtaxi, which slows to a halt at the platform’s edge. “Shall we?”

 

We climb inside, and Sandra directs the driver to an address in Coco Town. In a few minutes we disembark outside of a small restaurant, which a holoscreen sign identifies as the CoCo Cafe. Once the driver has pulled away, Sandra turns to me.

 

“I’m friends with the owner of this place; he’s a nice guy. He knows me as Tia Navqu, though. I met him when I was posing as a Senate aid. I usually don’t go back to places like this once the mission has ended; but they have _really_ good food here. So, as far as he knows, I’ve left my job in the Senate to ‘find myself.’”

 

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth?” I ask.

 

Sandra smiles enigmatically. “Because this is where I come when I want to be someone else for a while.”

 

We walk inside. The café is small and cozy. Each table has a vase of flowers on it and is covered by a prettily patterned tablecloth. The room is about half-filled with a wide variety of beings- CoCo town is one of the few areas of Coruscant frequented by both Senators and spacers.

 

A tall Quermian backs out of the kitchen, all four arms laden with plates of food, which he proceeds to distribute to various tables. When his arms are empty, he spots the two of us and breaks out into a grin.

 

“Tia!” he exclaims warmly, coming over to grasp Sandra’s hand with three of his own. “How are you, my dear?”

 

“I’m well, thank you,” she replies. “And yourself?”

 

His face falls. “Terribly overworked. My waitress quit, so I am forced to do her job on top of my own.”

 

“What happened to your WA-7?” Sandra asks him.

 

“The waitress droid? Short-circuited. She’s still under warranty, but I had to send her all the way back to the factory for repairs.” The Quermian looked distinctly unhappy. "The job of restaurant owner, I can manage. But the additional jobs of waiter and droid?” He shakes his head, then abruptly brightens and turns to me. “But I am appallingly rude for waiting so long to introduce myself. Ben Turbb, at your service.”

 

Sandra puts a hand on my shoulder. “Ben, this is Jedi Knight Siri Tachi. She just got promoted, so we’re celebrating.”

 

“Ah! Congratulations, good Jedi. Here, allow me to show the two of you to a table.”

 

He does so, and supplies us with menus. We order drinks and Ben hurries off, looking harried.

 

“He’s interesting,” I remark.

 

“Ben has a little problem with mood swings,” Sandra explains. “An unfortunate side affect that often comes with having two brains.”

 

Once we’ve received our drinks and ordered our meals, Sandra looks at me across the table, expression dead serious.

 

“I want you to tell me how you’re doing, and don’t say ‘fine.’ Tell me how you’re _really_ doing,” she instructs.

 

_I_ don’t even know how I’m really doing. I haven’t dared take stock of my emotional state for fear I’ll discover that I’m a wreck.

 

“It’s strange to be back here,” I say. “I guess it’ll take me some time to adjust. But I’ll manage.”

 

“Hm,” Sandra says. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

I look away, unable to speak the truth and unwilling to lie.

 

“Come on. I’m not going to go running to the Council. Whatever it is can stay between us.” She puts a hand on my arm, and I look up to see her sympathetic expression. “I can tell that you need to talk to someone.”

 

At that moment, the feelings inside me manifest into an almost physical ache. I _do_ need to talk to someone, but I can’t tell anyone the truth! I can’t let anyone else know about Xanatos. Still, the longer I look at Sandra’s understanding expression, the more I want to confess everything. I feel like I’ll go insane if I don’t confess my troubles.

 

I’ll tell her part of it, then. “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Okay. When I was on my mission, there was this man. And… well. We… had a relationship.”

 

Sandra nods, but says nothing. I’m surprised. Surely she has some reaction to this?

 

“I’m not going to lecture you on attachment,” she says finally. “If you want a lecture, you know where you can get it. I’m just offering a sympathetic ear.”

 

“But-“ I don’t quite know how to respond to this. “It’s not the Jedi way.”

 

Sandra lets out a groan of frustration. “I _knew_ it! I _knew_ you were having trouble with something like this! Why the hell did you keep telling me you were fine?” She composes herself. “Siri… do you think you’re the first Jedi to do something like this?”

 

“Um…” I hadn’t really thought about it. “Well, I suppose not, but-“

 

“Exactly!” Sandra exclaims. “Siri, these things happen. I see it a lot with Jedi who go undercover. When you’re living a life that’s not your own, it makes sense that you would want to do something to _make_ it your own. It’s very common for Jedi in covert ops to find something totally unrelated to their mission to serve as an outlet- and yes, before you ask, it’s almost always something that isn’t ‘the Jedi way.’”

 

The huge, emotional burden I’ve been carrying around for so long is starting to lessen a bit. “So, I’m not- I mean-“ I pause to try to find the right words. “I mean, I know I still shouldn’t have done it, but…”

 

“You feel better about yourself,” Sandra surmises. “Because you weren’t the only one ever to have done something like that. That’s a comforting thing, even if it doesn’t change the facts.”

 

“You’re right,” I tell her. “It is comforting, in a way, but…” I shake my head. “I still have to live with everything.”

 

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Sandra declares. “A whole lot- more than half- of the Jedi I’ve seen adopt this kind of coping mechanism get so caught up in it that their ability to perform on their mission suffers. But in your case, that didn’t happen. This man. When you first got involved with him, you’d been undercover for about a year, am I right?”

 

“Yeah,” I say, surprised. “How did you know?”

 

Sandra smiles knowingly. “You suddenly became a lot more productive. You started sending in a lot more reports. I commed you, remember? I thought something might have been up, but you wouldn’t tell me anything. So, I decided to trust you. I wish you had talked to me about it. You might not feel so miserable right now if you had.”

 

I shake my head in despair. “Force, why did I ever get involved with him?” I ask myself.

 

“Oh, Siri,” Sandra sighs. “You’re not hearing what I’m trying to tell you. _Lots_ of other Jedi have done things like this! And _most_ of them let their mission slip at least a little bit as a result. But _your_ mission was a rousing success!

 

“Look, I know what any other Jedi would say. But you were undercover, you were having trouble, so you found something to help you cope. _And_ you managed not to let it become more important to you than your mission. If you didn’t feel so badly right now, I’d say that everything was perfectly fine.”

 

“No,” I say. “Things _aren’t_ fine. I mean, they Knighted me, and I don’t deserve-“

 

“Yes you do,” Sandra says in a voice that leaves no room for argument.

 

“But I-“

 

She interrupts me again. “Okay, I’m going to be a bad role model here.” She sighs, folding her fingers together in front of her. “The Jedi Council does not need to know everything.”

 

I frown. “What are you getting at?”

 

Sandra rests her elbows on the table, leaning towards me. “The Council Knighted you for your performance on that mission. You didn’t lie about _that._ You did everything they think you did, so you’ve earned your Knighthood. Now, they _don’t_ know _everything_ you did, obviously. But, Siri, the relationship you had is over, in the past, behind you. You don’t need to confess your transgressions. You already know what the Council would say to you, if you did. What you need now is be a Jedi Knight, and put this mission and everything that went with it behind you.”

 

I nod. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, you’re right.”

 

She gives me an assessing look. “But…?”

 

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I miss him.” My voice comes out choked, and when I open my eyes there’s moisture there. “I miss him a lot.”

 

“Okay,” Sandra says. “Just so that we’re clear, here: you do know that it _had_ to end, right? There’s no question of seeing him again.”

 

“I know,” I say softly. “I suppose that makes me weak, doesn’t it?”

 

“Siri!” Sandra groans, running her hands through her hair. “You’re _not_ weak. Do you want to know what the Council doesn’t know about _me?_ ” She doesn’t wait for me to reply. “I was young, newly Knighted, and stupid, and I got hooked on spice. But I got help, and I cleaned myself up, and now I’m _better_ for having been through that. I don’t think I’d be half as good at my job if I hadn’t screwed up enough times to be able to see the warning signs when someone else is headed in that direction. And I’m not perfect; I’m pretty far from it.”

 

She gives a humorless laugh. “Why do you think I spend as little time at the Temple as possible? My master was in covert ops, it was pretty much all she did; so by extension, it was pretty much all _I_ ever did as a padawan. Then when I was Knighted, naturally the Council kept sending me undercover because that was what I was good at. I don’t know how to be a ‘proper’ Jedi, but I can live with that. I can live with it because I know I’m doing my best to help my operatives work through the kind of situations I’ve been through myself.”

 

I don’t quite know what to say.

 

Sandra looks embarrassed. “Sorry. I get a bit passionate sometimes.”

 

“That’s okay,” I tell her with a smile. “Thank you. I feel better now.”

 

And I do, just a little.

* * *

Sandra and I return to the Temple, where I bid her farewell- she’s flying out straight away. Before we part ways, she makes me promise to comm her if I ever need to talk. I tell her I will, and I mean it. After all we’ve shared with each other, I feel a lot closer to her.

 

I feel much better now that I’ve been able to talk to someone about some of what’s been weighing on me. Even though I couldn’t share everything with Sandra, my burden feels lighter.

 

She was right, of course; what I need right now is to focus on being a Jedi again. I haven’t been at the Temple for two whole years, and now I’m a Knight! I need to adjust, get used to things.

 

I’ll just have to keep myself from thinking about Xanatos too much. I might want to keep away from Obi-Wan, as well. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to deal with his feelings for me. I wish I’d never had last night’s realization. It would have been nice if Obi-Wan could have just been a friend to lean on.

 

Despair begins to creep in on me again. I may be back at the Temple, but how much has my situation really changed? I still have a secret I can’t tell anyone. And I’m still lying, if only by omission. Even if I tell someone else what I told Sandra, I can’t mention Xanatos by name.

 

At least when I was undercover I had Xan to go to. When I talked to or spent time with him, it was simpler. I wasn’t Siri, and I wasn’t Zora. I was just… me. But life isn’t that simple, is it? I’ll never get that back. I have to move on.

 

My thoughts whirl around me, and with effort I find my center. _Alright, Siri,_ I say to myself. _What you need right now is a distraction._

* * *

Block. Block. Block. Block. Miss.

 

_Ouch!_

 

Block. Block. Miss.

 

_Ouch!_

 

I don’t know how long I’ve stood here in the little practice room as the training remote whizzes around me. Time after time I bring up my lightsaber to block the low-level blasts, but more and more frequently they’re getting through, hitting my robes or exposed skin with a sharp sting.

 

Block. Miss.

 

_Ouch!_

 

Miss.

 

_Ouch!_

 

Suddenly the little remote shuts off, dropping to the ground. Frowning, I look around the room.

 

I must be more tired than I realize. The door is open, and Obi-Wan stands there, hand dropping down to his side from when he must have extended it to shut off the remote with the Force. The expression of concern on his face reminds me why he’s the last person I want to see right now.

 

I force a smile. “Guess I’m a little out of practice.”

 

He walks inside. “How long have you been in here? You’re covered in sweat.”

 

_So I am,_ I realize. “I’ve been working on my endurance,” I say.

 

Clearly, Obi-Wan isn’t buying it. “Siri… are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” I reply. “I got Kassa Iteron to work with me a bit yesterday, and she said that I needed to improve on my stamina, so I-“

 

Obi-Wan interrupts me. “There’s obviously something bothering you,” he says.

 

“I’m fine,” I repeat firmly.

 

But he won’t leave it alone. “If you wanted to talk about it-“

 

“I don’t,” I tell him. “And even if I did, what makes you think I’d want to talk to you?”

 

I catch a glimpse of hurt in Obi-Wan’s eyes before his face becomes impassive again, and I feel bad. I know that that was an unnecessarily cruel thing to say, but the truth is that there’s a part of me that wants to punish him for his feelings for me.

 

“I thought we were friends,” Obi-Wan replies.

 

“I’m fine,” I say again. I gather my cloak from where I’d left it and walk past him out of the room.

* * *

I sleep no better that night than I had the night before, so when my door chime sounds at almost fifth hour, I’m not disturbed. I am, however, surprised. Who would be coming to see me so early?

 

I open the door to find Obi-Wan standing there.

 

“Obi-Wan?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I hope you don’t mind if I come in,” he says, striding past me.

 

Apparently I have no choice. “What do you want?” I ask him impatiently.

 

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s trying to decide what to say. “I apprehended an intruder a little while ago. Here, in the Temple. I’ve just returned from putting him in the detention center.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask warily. I’m beginning to get a decidedly bad feeling about what he’s about to say.

 

“He claimed that he was here to see you,” Obi-Wan replies. “Which I found difficult to believe, as I was not aware that the two of you were acquainted. Of course, he was supposed to be dead.”

 

A sinking feeling overtakes me. _Oh, no. Oh, Force…_

 

“Ah… Who was this intruder, exactly?”

 

Obi-Wan looks at me intently. “Xanatos Omega.”

 

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is it. All that I had feared, all that I had tried to avoid… it’s come to pass.

 

Obi-Wan makes a noise of astonishment. “He was telling the truth.”

 

I open my eyes. “What did he say?” I manage.

 

“He said that the two of you had been involved,” Obi-Wan tells me. “Is that true?”

 

“It’s really none of your business,” I respond.

 

“Siri, I need to know.”

 

“Why?” I demand. “You’re not on the Council. You don’t have any authority over me.”

 

“No, but-“

 

I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t have _Obi-Wan,_ of all people, confronting me about Xanatos.

 

“You only _need_ to know because you’re in love with me!” I accuse.

 

He gapes at me, speechless.

 

“Don’t think I don’t know,” I go on. “You have to put it behind you, Obi-Wan. Because this is just pathetic.”

 

Obi-Wan sets his jaw. “I need to report to the Council about this.”

 

“Go on, then,” I tell him. “Pretend you don’t still have feelings for me. You’ll only be doing yourself a disservice, you know.”

 

Obi-Wan doesn’t reply to this, just shakes his head sadly as he leaves. For a moment all I can do is stand there feeling guilty for the way I’ve just treated my friend.

 

The moment soon passes, however, and I hurriedly change out of my sleep clothes and into my robes. Less than ten standard minutes after Obi-Wan’s departure, I too am exiting my quarters.

 

My destination is the Temple’s detention center. I have to see Xanatos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Now things are going to get really interesting.


	10. The Scientist

_Tell me you love me_

_Come back and haunt me_

_I want to rush to the start_

_Running in circles_

_Chasing tails_

_Coming back as we are_

 

_Nobody said it was easy_

_Oh it's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be so hard_

_I'm going back to the start_

_\- Coldplay_

* * *

(Siri)

 

The Jedi Temple Detention Center was built hundreds of years ago during the Sith Wars, primarily to serve as a holding place for the Sith and Dark Jedi taken as prisoners during the conflict. Xanatos has been placed in the highest-security part of the facility- the Sith containment cells. These are made from Force and lightsaber-resistant materials and contained by ray shields, which makes escape from them next to impossible.

 

The cell is furnished with the basic necessities, which, although they’re not at all luxurious, seem serviceable enough. Something about the cell’s furnishings seem to suggest the expectation of a long-term stay.

 

Xanatos is sitting on his cell’s single bunk, looking me straight in the eyes. I notice the Force-inhibiting collar around his neck and try not to wince. I’d trained with those, but never for more than a few hours at a time. I’d always despised being cut off from the Force like that. I wonder how long Xanatos will have to wear this one.

 

A lump rises in my throat. It’s only been nine days since we’ve spoken, but it feels like an eternity. Nine days ago, he’d told me that he loved me. No; he’d told _Zora_ that he loved her. Now he’s seeing Siri Tachi for the first time, and I’m strangely fearful of what his reaction will be. It was never supposed to come to this, after all.

 

“Hello, Xanatos,” I say softly, once the silence has stretched out for too long.

 

He slowly looks me over.“I wondered how long it would be until you showed up.”

 

We regard each other in silence for a moment. He seems to be waiting for me to speak, but I’m not sure what to say.

 

“You shouldn’t have come,” I tell him finally. “You were supposed to think I was dead.”

 

“You didn’t cover your tracks exceptionally well,” Xanatos replies, voice cold.

 

“I was trying to avoid this exact situation!” I exclaim. “I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

 

He makes a derisive noise. “Really?”

 

“Yes!” I protest.

 

“Well,” he replies with a shrug. “I had to talk to you.”

 

“Why?” I ask.

 

“I needed to know if any of it was real,” Xanatos says after a moment.

 

I swallow. “It was all real,” I tell him honestly.

 

Blue eyes flash. “Wrong! You were lying about who you were.”

 

“I- I had to,” I stammer. “I was undercover. But, my feelings for you… everything we had… _that_ was real.”

 

“And how do I know I can believe you?”

 

“You weren’t a part of my mission,” I tell him. “I thought you were dead, just like everyone else. But I never told the Council you were alive, did I?” I pause. “Of course, now they’re going to find out anyway. And we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”

 

“You’ll forgive me if I can’t muster much sympathy for you.”

 

Now it’s my turn to get upset. “I lied for you. To keep you safe.”

 

“I don’t recall asking you to,” he counters.

 

I’m momentarily speechless. “But- I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

 

Xanatos looks bored. “So now you’re pretending to have cared about me, is that it?”

 

“I did care about you!” I exclaim, wounded. “I should think that would be obvious.”

 

“If you’d cared, you would have come clean with me,” he declares.

 

“So that’s how you’re going to be,” I say, feeling my shoulders slump. “You’re going to color your memories of the past with the bitterness you feel now until you forget what _really_ happened.”

 

“It wasn’t real,” he says.

 

“So why did you come here, then?” I challenge. “Why track me down if you’re going to just dismiss it?”

 

“I needed to hear what you had to say. I must admit; I’m not very impressed with your attempts to explain yourself.”

 

“I warned you; do you remember?” I ask him. “I warned you that this wouldn’t work.”

 

Xanatos smiles humorlessly. “Your reasons, if I recall correctly, were rather vague. Had you said, ‘I cannot have a relationship with you because I am an undercover Jedi’ - _then_ I would have listened.”

 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

 

He’s silent for a moment. “You lied to me, Siri,” he says, using my true name for the first time. “You’re still one of them. Of all the ways you could have deceived me, this may have been the worst.”

 

I feel legitimately horrible. Of course, this is the ultimate betrayal for him. “I did the best I could, under the circumstances,” I try to explain. “The position I was in-“

 

I break off then, because my comlink is signaling. Now I _definitely_ have a bad feeling. It’s still very early in the morning. Who could be on the other end but the Council?

 

I pick up. “Siri Tachi.”

 

“Siri.” The voice that answers is graver than I’ve ever heard it, and for this particular Jedi, that’s saying a lot. “This is Mace Windu.”

 

“Hello, Master,” I murmur.

 

He ignores my greeting. “Your presence is required in the Council chamber. _Immediately.”_

 

I gulp. I… am in trouble, more trouble than I’ve ever been in. Every other infraction I’ve committed in my entire lifetime combined wouldn’t be as bad as this is going to be.

 

“I’ll be there straight away,” I reply.

 

“Do not keep us waiting,” Master Windu orders, and ends the transmission.

 

I turn to Xanatos. “I have to go,” I tell him.

 

He smirks. “See, I was smart. I avoided this exact situation by leaving the Order altogether.”

 

“I don’t want to leave the Order,” I reply.

 

“Apparently not.”

 

I turn to go.

 

“I suppose I’ll see you again sometime,” Xanatos calls after me. “If there’s anything left of you.”

* * *

I head to the Council chambers with a pounding heart, Xanatos’ taunt ringing in my ears. It had been childish, yes, but… well, Xanatos had grown up in the Temple too. He’d probably heard from a young age, same as I had, angst-ridden padawans who had committed some infraction exclaiming, “The Council’s going to tear me apart!” You’d think, in times like that, that the Temple were some primitive world where transgressions meant becoming food for some large, hungry predator- like the rancor Jabba the Hutt reputedly keeps below his throne room.

 

All too soon, I’ve reached the lift that will take me up to the Council chamber. I make a valiant attempt to calm myself. If I go in like this, nervousness coursing through my veins, heart pounding- they’ll _know._ I can’t let them see me like this.

 

_Find your center,_ I tell myself. _Be calm. Remember_ why _you did it._

 

For a moment all I can do is panic- why _had_ I done it?- but soon I find my calm. I’d thought it was the will of the Force. Surely the Council won’t be too harsh if I explain that to them?

 

I do my best to calm my pounding heart in the lift- just as well, because the door to the Council chambers opens for me as soon as I step out. I take a breath, one final effort to quell my trepidation, and walk inside.

 

The faces of all the Council members are grave. I chance a brief look at my master’s seat only to find that she hasn’t returned from her mission yet. I’m relieved, though I know it won’t make any difference in the long run.

 

I stop in the center of the room and bow to the Council. After a moment of dead silence, Mace Windu speaks.

 

“Temple Security apprehended an intruder last night with help from Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says.

 

I nod, not trusting my voice.

 

“This intruder was presumed dead. Had he not been, he would have currently been at large for a number of crimes against the galaxy- including, but not limited to, crimes against the Jedi Order itself.”

 

I gulp.

 

“He claimed to know you,” Master Windu says. “Given your lack of surprise, I assume that news of this has reached you?”

 

I nod. “Yes, Master.”

 

Mace Windu nods. “I see. You are aware, then, that the intruder was Xanatos Omega?”

 

“Yes, Master,” I say softly.

 

“You have encountered Omega before?”

 

I nod again. “Yes, Master.”

 

“Then why,” Master Windu asks me, eyes blazing fiercely. “Did you fail to inform this Council that he was alive?”

 

I gulp again. “I…” I clear my throat. “I first encountered him when I was undercover. I observed him, and… and I felt that he had changed. That he wasn’t the man who had done all of those things.”

 

“That is no excuse not to inform the Council,” Master Windu said shortly. “No matter how reformed he may or may not be, his crimes must be answered for.”

 

I bow my head. “Yes, Master, I know, but-“ I glance up at the Council members to find them watching me more or less impassively. I straighten, taking another deep breath. “I am aware of what I should have done. I chose to do what I did because I felt it to be the will of the Force. I have no other excuse.”

 

Breathlessly, I await their verdict.

 

“Xanatos is a Dark Jedi,” Master Windu says. “He could have used the Dark Side to manipulate you.”

 

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That isn’t what happened. I told him I had left the Order just like he had- he’d have had no motive.”

 

“Certain of this, are you?” Yoda asks, speaking up for the first time.

 

“I’m certain that he meant me no harm, Master,” I reply.

 

“The truth, this is? Look at it objectively, you do?”

 

I hesitate.

 

“You have formed an attachment to him,” Ki-Adi Mundi murmurs.

 

My shoulders slump. “Yes, Master,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean-“

 

“What it means,” Master Windu says firmly. “Is that you are unable to be objective.”

 

“But-“ I search for something I can say to make them understand. “It was the will of the Force!”

 

“Sure, I am, that you felt that way,” Yoda says gently. “But very misleading, the Dark Side can be.”

 

“But- Master- I felt drawn to Xanatos before I even spoke to him!” I protest. “And I never told him who I was! I didn’t compromise my mission in any way.”

 

“Xanatos is very clever,” Master Windu states. “We cannot be sure of his motives. Yours, however, do not hold up to scrutiny.”

 

I can’t think of anything to say. I feel betrayed- how can they not understand?

 

“Require a full investigation, the situation will,” Yoda says.

 

“Criminal proceedings have been instigated against Xanatos,” Master Windu informs me. “And you are placed on probation until such time as we can decide your fate.”

 

My heart sinks. That doesn’t sound good. “Yes, Master.”

 

“You are dismissed.”

 

I bow to the Council, and retreat from the room.

* * *

I leave the Council chambers with some thought that I might head down to the training rooms and work out my emotions with my lightsaber. The Temple is beginning to awaken now, so I might be able to find a sparring partner.

 

As I begin to pass other Jedi in the hallways, however, I reconsider my plans. Many of them are looking at me strangely, and more than one conversation goes suddenly quiet as I walk by.

 

My heart sinks. The rumor mill in the Temple is unparalleled. I should have realized that it wouldn’t take long for this morning’s events to become common knowledge.

 

I return to my quarters, knowing I lack the courage right now to face the judgment of my peers. Besides, I should probably meditate.

 

I don’t expect anyone to be waiting for me outside my door, and if I had I certainly wouldn’t have expected Anakin Skywalker.

 

“Anakin? What are you doing here?”

 

He looks at me intently. “What did you do?”

 

“What?”

 

“The whole Temple is talking about it!” he exclaims. “They’re saying you got dragged in front of the Council, and Master Obi-Wan won’t tell me what’s going on, and-“

 

“Anakin! Calm down.” I sigh. “You better come in.”

 

He follows me inside, practically vibrating with frustration.

 

“If Obi-Wan won’t tell you what’s happened, then I shouldn’t either,” I say firmly. “He’s already mad at me, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

 

“C’mon, Siri!” Anakin wails. “I thought we were friends!”

 

“I don’t think you want to be my friend right now.”

 

“Why is my master mad at you?” Anakin asks, taking a seat on my couch.

 

I stay standing in front of him, arms crossed.I’m acutely aware that my relationship with Anakin has changed. I’m an embarrassment now, a stain on the Order. Anakin’s a young, impressionable padawan, and he shouldn’t be here.

 

“I was keeping a secret, and it got out,” I say shortly.

 

“Why would that make him mad?”

 

I sigh. “I don’t know, Anakin. He probably feels like I’ve betrayed him.”

 

“Because of Xanatos?”

 

I actually flinch at the name. I’m a little surprised Anakin even knows who Xanatos is, although I probably shouldn’t be. Obi-Wan’s likely told him some things, and even if he hasn’t, Xanatos has become an almost legendary bogeyman for the initiates.

 

“That’s right,” I sigh.

 

“Everyone in the dorms is saying that he was trying to destroy the Temple again.”

 

I raise my eyebrows. _”That’s_ what they’re saying?”

 

Anakin nods.

 

I peer at him closely. “What else are they saying?”

 

“That he tricked you into helping him, and that’s why you’re in trouble with the Council.”

 

“That’s ridiculous!” I exclaim. “Anakin, if I was in league with Xanatos the Council would have locked me up.”

 

“Then why are you in trouble?”

 

“Like I said, I was keeping secrets. The Council doesn’t like that sort of thing.”

 

Anakin frowns. “You’re in trouble for keeping secrets?”

 

“I’m in trouble for keeping a secret that I should have told the Council about.”

 

“So you knew Xanatos was going to try to destroy the Temple?”

 

“No! That’s not why he was here.”

 

“Why else would he come here?”

 

I purse my lips, not sure what to say. “I should comm Obi-Wan to come get you. This is none of your concern.”

 

Hurt flashes across Anakin’s face. “No, that’s okay. I’ll go.”

 

I hadn’t realized it was possible for me to feel any worse, but this has done it. “Anakin, wait.”

 

He looks up at me. I move to sit next to him on the couch.

 

“Don’t tell Obi-Wan you heard this from me, ok?”

 

“Deal!” Anakin agrees, grinning.

 

I sigh. I’m still not sure how I’m going to explain my actions to everyone, and even if I was, I wouldn’t have chosen to start with Obi-Wan’s young apprentice. But he’s asking for answers, and I don’t want to deny him. Besides, maybe if he starts spreading around what _actually_ happened, it will quell some of these rumors.

 

“I met Xanatos when I was undercover. I should have told the Council he was alive, but I didn’t. When we left Nar Shadda, I told Aga Culpa to falsify the records so that everyone would believe Zorawas dead. I didn’t want Xanatos to find out who I really was, because I knew he’d come looking for me. But he figured it out anyway. That’s why he snuck into the Temple last night.”

 

Anakin digests this for a moment. “He came here because he wanted to see you?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He was angry with me for lying to him. I suppose he came here to confront me.” It’s not the whole truth. But Anakin doesn’t need to know _everything._

 

“It was really dumb of him to get caught, then.”

 

“Yes, it was,” I say softly.

 

I feel so tired, in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep. Xanatos is here, and everything has fallen apart. “Don’t you have classes to go to, Anakin?”

 

“Not until eighth hour.”

 

I blink at the chrono. It’s not even seventh hour yet. “Well,” I yawn. “I think I might go back to sleep.”

 

“Oh, ok.”

 

I walk him to the door. “Look, it might not be a good idea to tell Obi-Wan you came to see me.”

 

Anakin frowns. “Why not?”

 

“Like I said, he’s mad at me. He came to see me after he took Xanatos into custody, and… I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

 

“So apologize.”

 

“I will. Once he’s had time to cool down.”

 

Anakin frowns. “Obi-Wan doesn’t _get_ mad at people. Even when he had to go down to the lower levels and drag me out of the speeder bike races, he just said he was _disappointed.”_

 

“Yeah, well… I’ve always been able to get under his skin.”

 

“How come?”

 

I let my eyes fall shut for a moment. _That decides it; I am_ never _taking a padawan. I could not deal with this all day._ Anakin had been very mature and collected on Nar Shadda, but he’s still just a kid. Now that he doesn’t have a mission to focus on, he’s much the same as any other child his age.

 

“I don’t know, Anakin,” I say wearily. “You’d have to ask him.”

 

He frowns at me. “You’re _sure_ you don’t hate him?”

 

“Obi-Wan is my friend, he’s just very irritating. And I don’t hate anybody. It’s not the Jedi way.”

 

Anakin makes a face. “Okay. I’ll see you later?”

 

I manage a smile. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

 

I go back into my quarters, walking into the bedroom and falling face-first onto my sleepcouch. This is the first moment I’ve been able to relax since Obi-Wan came to tell me about Xanatos. That was only a couple of hours ago, but it feels like much longer.

 

I sit up, pulling off my boots and robe, and then lie back. Despite what I’d said to Anakin, I know there is little chance I’ll be able to get any sleep right now. I could try meditating, but that doesn’t sound particularly appealing.

 

I feel just as isolated as if I were back on Nar Shadda, having to pretend to be a pirate. But at least then I could comm Xan, and have someone to talk to.

 

A thought occurs to me then. I _do_ have someone to talk to. Someone who won’t judge me. Someone who, hopefully, will understand.

 

Quickly I take out my commlink and punch in the code.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Sandra? It’s Siri,” I take a deep breath. “I fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and/or kudos if you are so inclined! It means a lot to me.


	11. I Owe You A Love Song

_Remember the days_

_Of sleepless summer nights that took us away_

_A perfect place, a different time_

_Back when nothing was wrong_

_Now we’re each sold separately_

_Our summers have gone_

_Grey skies are all I see_

_-Shiny Toy Guns_

* * *

(Siri)

 

Sandra isn’t as understanding as I’d hoped she’d be.

 

“Like I told you, undercover operatives screw up all the time,” she tells me. “But this is a doozy. They could kick you out of the Order for this.”

 

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know.”

 

“Are they going to?”

 

“I don’t know. They put me on probation.”

 

She sighs. “Okay. I guess the question is, do you _want_ to be a Jedi?”

 

“Of course I do!”

 

“Then you have to get your shit together,” she says bluntly. “Follow all the rules, and do _everything_ the Council tells you. If they see that you’re toeing the line, they’ll probably let you stay. Your master’s on the Council, that will help.”

 

That’s another thing to consider. My master is away on a mission right now. I dread to think what her reaction will be when she hears what I’ve done.

 

“I don’t know,” I say. “She’s always been strict. She might not stand up for me.”

 

“All masters love their padawans, even if they pretend not to,” Sandra replies. “Show her that you’ve seen the error of your ways. She’ll speak up for you. Remember, if you get drummed out of the Order it makes her look bad, too.”

 

“She doesn’t care about that sort of thing.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Even Council members aren’t perfect.”

 

I snort. “You wouldn’t know it by the way they carry on.”

 

Sandra laughs. “Yeah, well… Look, I don’t always agree with the Council. But they’re the ones in charge.”

 

“I know. I’ll do what they say.”

 

She’s silent for a moment. “Promise?”

 

“Absolutely.” There’s no doubt in my mind: I _want_ to be a Jedi. My life has fallen apart, and this is the only way to fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes.

 

“Good.” Sandra sounds pleased. “Tell you what; I’ll send them a report about you. I’ll tell them that no matter what you were doing with Xanatos, you didn’t allow your mission to suffer.”

 

“Thank you,” I say, touched.

 

“Well, I don’t know how much good it will do. I’m not exactly a model Jedi either.”

 

“Still, I appreciate it.”

 

“It’s no problem,” she assures me. “Look, I have to go now. I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

“Okay. Thanks, Sandra.”

 

I hang up and lie back on my sleepcouch. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I feel better now. Everything can be okay. I’ll prove to the Council that I deserve to stay in the Order. And Xanatos will go to prison and I’ll never see him again. But that’s not really my fault. He’d never have been caught in the first place if not for his own foolishness.

 

I don’t want to see him go to prison. I never have. But what Mace Windu said is true. He committed many crimes, and justice must be served. There’s nothing I can do about that.

 

The next thing I’m aware of is my comm signaling. I grope for it confusedly. I must have fallen asleep after all.

 

“H’lo?”

 

“The Council requires your presence.”

 

I sit up. “I’ll be right there, Master Windu.”

 

“Good,” he says, and ends the transmission.

 

I rub my eyes, checking the chrono. It’s nearly midday. I’d slept for five hours. Considering I’d hardly slept at all the night before, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, lack of sleep doesn’t normally affect me like this.

 

As I put on my boots, I realize how hungry I am. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. And since I’ve only just moved into these quarters, the kitchenette isn’t stocked.

 

Well, there’s nothing for it. I can’t keep the Council waiting.

 

When I arrive at the Council chambers, the doors open for me immediately. Swallowing down my trepidation, I head inside.

 

“As we told you before, criminal proceedings have been instigated against Xanatos,” Master Windu tells me after I’ve bowed to the Council. “May I assume we will have your full cooperation in this matter?”

 

“Yes, Master,” I say, although my heart sinks. They want me to help them send Xanatos to prison? I don’t know if I can do this, but I must. I have to do what the Council wants.

 

“Very good. There is only one concern. We have been in touch with the Attorney General, and there could be legal ramifications for you.”

 

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded. “I know what I did was wrong, but…”

 

“Apparently there are some grounds for charging you with obstruction of justice, since you knew Xanatos was alive and did not turn him in,” Mace Windu continues as though I hadn’t spoken. “Obviously, we’re looking to avoid that. Politically speaking, it would reflect badly upon the Order. The Attorney General has not yet decided whether or not to press charges against you. I would suggest that you cooperate fully with his investigation. It may help your case.”

 

“Of course I’ll cooperate,” I say. “What do they need me to do?”

 

“A preliminary interview, you must attend.” Master Yoda spoke up. “Speak of your experiences with Xanatos, you will.”

 

I nod. “I can do that.”

 

“They’ll expect you today at fifteenth hour,” Master Windu says. “You are dismissed.”

* * *

Fifteenth hour finds me at the offices of Coruscant’s Attorney General. Upon arriving and giving my name to the clerk, I’m led into a conference room where a Bothan is waiting for me.

 

“You must be Knight Tachi,” he says. “I’m Vosk Tra’vue, one of the prosecuting attorneys assigned to this case.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, not really meaning it. “You all get organized pretty fast.”

 

He grimaces. “Oh, don’t get me started. They called me before I could even get into the office this morning to deal with all this.”

 

“Well, not that it’s a competition, but I’m pretty sure my day was worse than yours,” I offer wryly.

 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

 

I blink, nonplussed. “Sorry, I thought you knew who I was.”

 

He winces. “Yeah, uh… they’ve got me interviewing like five different Jedi for this case. I haven’t even had time to review my notes, so you’ll forgive me if things are a bit haphazard, won’t you?”

 

“I’m the one they’re threatening to charge with obstruction of justice because I knew Xanatos was alive and didn’t tell anyone,” I say flatly.

 

“Oh, right. Well, then yeah. You probably are having a worse day than I am.”

 

Tra’vue glances down at his datapad. “Let’s see… yep, here we go. So, you ready to answer some questions?”

 

“That’s what I’m here for,” I say.

 

“Okay, so it says here you met Xanatos Omega while you were on an undercover mission?”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“Right, so how did the two of you meet?”

 

I sigh. “It was in a cantina, on Tatooine.”

 

There’s silence as he types in my response. “I’m going to need a few more details.”

 

“Oh, um… Well, pretty much as soon as I entered the cantina, I felt drawn to him, and he said he felt the same way about me. The Force drew us together.”

 

Tra’vue winces. “Yeah, okay, I’m gonna stop you right there. All that Force stuff? I get that it’s what you Jedi are about, but it doesn’t really go over well in court. So I’m gonna need you to just stick to the facts of what actually happened.”

 

I blink at him again. It’s not rare to encounter a nonbeliever, but somehow I expected someone living right here on Coruscant to know better. “Alright… Uh, he came over and offered to buy me a drink. I accepted, and we got to talking. Ended up ordering dinner, and he walked me back to my ship after.”

 

Tra’vue nods, taking all this down. “At what point did you discover who he was?”

 

“Approximately five minutes after meeting him,” I reply.

 

“I see. And did you tell him your true identity?”

 

“No. I gave him the alias and cover story for my mission.”

 

“Uh-huh.” He types this in. “But despite him not knowing your true identity, you developed a relationship with him.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And this relationship, was it romantic in nature?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even though, as a Jedi, you’re forbidden to have that kind of relationship?”

 

“That’s right,” I reply, trying not to wince.

 

Tra’vue nods, continuing to type. “And how long did this relationship last?”

 

“Approximately one year.”

 

“And during this year, you never once told anyone that he was alive?”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“And he never discovered your true identity?”

 

“Not until after my mission ended.”

 

Tra’vue continues to question me for another hour. All of his questions are about Xanatos, or Offworld and its business dealings. Towards the end, the questions take a slightly different turn.

 

“And what about the Vice President of Offworld, Granta Omega? Did you ever meet him?”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“What were your impressions of him?”

 

I pause. I actually have a lot of opinions about Granta, but none of them are really relevant to the case at hand. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, was he given the position due to sheer nepotism, or was he actually involved in the company?”

 

“He was involved,” I say without thinking. “He helped Xanatos run everything.” Then I wonder if I’ve misspoken. “You’re not going to charge Granta with anything, are you?”

 

“We’re just gathering information right now,” Tra’vue says.

 

It’s a non-answer, and my heart sinks. I hadn’t even considered that Granta might become involved with all this, but of course they’d look to charge him if they could.

 

I’ve been trying not to imagine Xanatos shipped off to some prison world, but I know, deep down, that if it should happen he’ll be able to endure it. Xanatos is strong. But Granta? How would he fare in prison? Surely not as well as his father.

 

Tra’vue asks me a couple more questions about Granta, and I try to answer without incriminating him further. Then I’m told that I’ll be contacted if I’m needed again, and I’m free to go.

 

On my way out of the offices, I run into Obi-Wan. 

 

“Hello, Siri,” he says calmly, as if our confrontation this morning hadn’t happened.

 

“What are you doing here?” I blurt.

 

“They have some questions for me,” he says.

 

So he’s here for the same reason I am. Although he’s probably able to be a lot more relaxed, because _he_ hasn’t done anything wrong.

 

“Look, Obi-Wan, about this morning…” I begin.

 

But he interrupts me. “I shouldn’t keep them waiting,” he says.

 

“Right, of course. I’ll talk to you later?”

 

“If you like,” he says indifferently.

 

It hits me then- he’s not over this morning. Not at all. He’s only pretending to be. But before I can say anything else, the clerk is showing him into the back, and I’ve lost my chance.

 

I sigh, heading to the turbolift that will take me down to street level. I’ve made such a mess of everything, and I have no one to blame but myself. It’s a terrible feeling.

 

Maybe I figure nothing can make me feel any worse. Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. Either way, when I return to the Temple, I head straight for the detention center. I need to see Xanatos.

 

This time there are guards posted outside the corridor leading to the Sith containment cells. They’re both humanoid, but as they’re wearing the traditional masks, it’s impossible to identify them further.

 

“Do you have business with the prisoner?” one of them asks me.

 

I nod, not trusting my voice. If they don’t let me in, I’m not sure what I’ll do.

 

But they wave me through.

 

Xanatos’ cell is at the end of the hall, out of earshot of the guards. He’s sitting at the small desk, writing something on a sheet of flimsiplast. I clear my throat to get his attention.

 

He looks up, surprise flashing across his face for an instant. “Well, look at that,” he says, sounding bored. “The Council left you in one piece, then?”

 

“More or less,” I say.

 

“What do you want, Siri?” he asks. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

 

“How can you be busy?” I ask. “You’re locked up.”

 

“I’m preparing my defense,” Xanatos replies.

 

“Isn’t that your lawyer’s job?”

 

“Oh, I’m not going to use one,” he informs me. “I’ll be serving as my own attorney.”

 

That strikes me as a colossally stupid idea. “Do you _want_ to go to prison?” I ask.

 

He fixes me with a withering look. “Of course not.”

 

“Then what the hell are you thinking?” I demand. “You’re not a lawyer. Surely it would be better for your case if you had someone who knows the ins and outs of the legal system.”

 

“Your concern is touching,” Xanatos says sarcastically. “I assure you, I have everything under control.”

 

_I always have a way out_. How many times have I heard him say that? Suddenly I’m sure that this time is no different.

 

“You have a plan, don’t you?”

 

He smirks. “Of course I do.”

 

“Is Granta part of this plan?”

 

“Granta?” Xanatos actually seems taken aback at this. “What does he have to do with this?”

 

I shouldn’t tell him. It would go against all my resolutions. But the thought of Granta in prison won’t leave me alone.

 

“You have to promise not to tell anyone I told you this,” I say, somewhat desperately.

 

“And why would I do that?” he asks, sounding bored.

 

My temper flares. “Dammit, Xan, I’m trying to _help_ you!”

 

“Really? Here I thought you were going to play the good little Jedi.”

 

“Look,” I say crossly. “You can go rot if you want. But I don’t think Granta deserves the same fate.”

 

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I _really_ shouldn’t be telling you this, but… I had to go to the Attorney General’s office today, and answer a bunch of questions, about you, and about Offworld. But towards the end they started asking about Granta, and… I think I may have said too much. I think they’re going to try charging him with something. And I don’t think he deserves that, do you?”

 

Xanatos looks at me for a long moment. “Interesting,” he says finally. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I told you, I don’t think Granta deserves to go to prison.”

 

“Hasn’t he broken the law just as I have?”

 

“Well, yes…”

 

“Then why doesn’t he deserve it?”

 

“Maybe because everything he does is to try and please you? I doubt he’d even be in the business if it wasn’t for you. If you’d stayed in the Order, for instance, he probably would have grown up to have a perfectly normal, law-abiding life.”

 

Xanatos is giving me a look I can’t quite interpret. “You think he tries to please me?”

 

“Xan, that’s literally all he wants. Can’t you see it?”

 

“Well, if you’re right, he has a funny way of showing it.”

 

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my temper. “Look, I just wanted to warn you, okay?”

 

He nods. “Understood.”

 

Of course he’s not going to thank me. I’m a little disgusted at myself for expecting it.

 

But I can’t quite bring myself to leave, either. “How are you holding up?” I ask, hating myself a little.

 

Xanatos gives me an incredulous look. “Am I supposed to believe you care about my well-being?”

 

This hurts. “Xan, of course I care. I told you, my feelings for you were real.”

 

_“Were_ real. So you don’t have those feelings anymore?”

 

“I- that’s not really-“ I break off, frustrated. “Fine. Yes, I do still have feelings for you. But that’s neither here nor there. Not anymore.”

 

“So let’s get this straight. You claim to care about me, but you’re going to help the Council send me to prison anyway?”

 

When he puts it like that, it makes me sound just as hypocritical as he’s always said the Jedi are.

 

“Xan, I have to help them. They’ll kick me out of the Order if I don’t. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“The right thing for whom?” he counters. “For you, not me.”

 

“You broke the law! _And_ we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t been stupid enough to come to Coruscant, so don’t go blaming me.”

 

“So you’re saying all of this is my own fault?”

 

“Yes!” I exclaim. “Because it _is_.”

 

“And what about you?” he asks. “Lying to me, leading me on… are you blameless in this?”

 

“I didn’t lead you on,” I argue. “I lied to you, yes, but- I keep telling you, what we had was real.”

 

“Was it.”

 

My temper finally gets the better of me. “Okay, fine!” I exclaim. “Think whatever you want.”

 

With that, I storm out.

* * *

Later that day, Obi-Wan comes to see me. I let him in, a little surprised to see him.

 

“I thought you were still mad at me,” I confess.

 

“Anger leads to hate,” Obi-Wan replies.

 

I make a face before I can stop myself. “Really? We’re doing maxims now?”

 

“I think maybe you could do with some reminders of that nature,” Obi-Wan says frostily.

 

“So you are still mad at me.”

 

“No, I’m not,” he replies calmly. “I just want to ask you something.”

 

“Okay, go for it.”

 

“Why did you lie about Xanatos?”

 

I clear my throat. “Well, I didn’t _lie,_ exactly, I just… didn’t tell the whole truth.”

 

“That’s tantamount to a lie.”

 

“Fine. I didn’t tell anyone because…” _Because I care for him_. It’s the real reason, but I dare not tell anyone that, especially not Obi-Wan. “I believed he’d changed. That he wasn’t the same person who did all those terrible things. _And_ it looks like I was right, because he could have done all sorts of damage the night he snuck in here, but he _didn’t.”_

 

“Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

 

I take a deep breath. It won’t help to lose my temper with Obi-Wan like I’d lost it with Xan earlier. “Did you come here just to pick a fight with me?” I ask.

 

“No,” Obi-Wan says crossly. “I told you, I’m not angry with you.”

 

“Oh, bullshit,” I say flatly. “You totally are. You feel like I betrayed you somehow. Which makes no kind of sense. It must be because you’re still in love with me.” I hadn’t wanted to bring that up again, but it’s looking like it might be the only way to make him go away.

 

“I’m not in love with you,” he says, maddeningly calm. “Love is forbidden.”

 

“That doesn’t stop us from feeling it,” I say, thinking of Xan.

 

There’s silence for a moment.

 

“You love him,” Obi-Wan says.

 

“No, I-“ I sigh. “I don’t know.”

 

“Maybe you should try talking to Master Yoda about it,” he suggests.

 

I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well… for one thing, Xanatos tried to kill him.”

 

“He’s tried to kill me, too,” Obi-Wan says dryly. “Several times.”

 

“Which is why it would make sense if you’re angry with me.”

 

“I’m not angry.”

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

“I-“ Finally, I seem to have caught him off guard. He takes a deep breath. “You’re right,” he says. “I need to go and meditate. Excuse me.”

 

And with that, he’s out the door.

* * *

I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve been missing Xan like crazy ever since my mission ended. I’ve been wanting to see him… but not here. Not like this.

 

Now that I’m back at the Temple, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that I’m a Jedi. I really am upset about Xanatos’ criminal history. It seems much more real then it did while I was undercover.

 

There’s no denying that Xan has done terrible things. He deserves to be punished for them. Intellectually, I know this to be true. But I don’t want to see him punished, and that can only be because of the way I feel about him.

 

Is Obi-Wan right? Do I love Xanatos? I’m a Jedi. Love is forbidden. Xan and I can never again be together, never have a relationship, so why should it matter if he’s sent off to some prison world?

 

It’s because he’s honestly reformed now, I try to tell myself, but that feels false. He still uses slave labor, and who knows what kind of deals he’s made with the Hutts. Even if he had been reformed, that still wouldn’t let him off the hook for his past crimes.

 

In my heart I know the real reason I don’t want to see him put away- because then I wouldn’t be able to see him, to talk to him. I need him to be a part of my life.

 

But maybe I’m just having trouble letting go. Maybe I don’t need Xan; maybe I’ve just gotten used to him. Maybe I can get unused to him.

 

It comes to this: I need to get my act together. I’m already on probation, and it’s likely that at least some of the Council are looking for any reason to drum me out of the Order. I refuse to give them one. Being a Jedi is my life, and I won’t let that go. I can’t.

 

So I’ll continue to cooperate fully with the prosecution. I’ll meditate lots- it’s the proper Jedi thing to do, even if I don’t like it- and commit myself. I’ll show the Council that I’m worthy of remaining among the ranks of the Order. Obi-Wan did it once, surely I can do it now.

* * *

A couple days pass, and I stick to my resolutions. I’ve been meditating plenty, and working on my lightsaber skills. I’m also starting to feel terrible for the way I’ve been treating Obi-Wan. He deserves an apology. Probably more than one.

 

So when my door chime goes off one morning, I’m hoping it’s him. But when I open the door, I see Adi standing there.

 

“Hello, Master,” I say, heart sinking. “How was your mission?”

 

She ignores this. “Siri. We need to talk.”

 

I step aside, letting her in. “I guess they told you what happened.”

 

“Master Windu has informed me,” Adi says stiffly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

This is worse than any of my transgressions as a padawan. It doesn’t matter that I’m not an apprentice anymore- I still feel like I’m in a huge heap of trouble.

 

“I… made a mistake.”

 

“I’ll say,” she agrees. “Mace thinks you were manipulated by Xanatos somehow. He says you deny this.”

 

“He wasn’t manipulating me,” I say. “I became involved with him because I wanted to be.”

 

“And why would you want that?”

 

“It felt right,” I say helplessly.

 

Adi shakes her head. “I thought I taught you better, Siri. You’ve never had problems with attachment before.”

 

Well, that answers an old question of mine. So she never did figure out what had happened between Obi-Wan and I when we were padawans. I certainly never told her, but I thought Master Jinn or Yoda might have.

 

“This was different,” I say. “When we met, we felt drawn to each other. The Force drew us together. There must be a reason for that, right?”

 

“Siri, be reasonable. Why would the Force draw you to someone like that?”

 

“I don’t know. But I know what I felt.”

 

“You were probably misinterpreting it,” my master says.

 

I shake my head wordlessly. I know what happened. Then an idea strikes me. “Go ask him, then.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Go down to the detention center and ask Xanatos what happened when we met. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

 

“Siri, even if he did tell me that… that doesn’t prove he didn’t manipulate you.”

 

I feel utterly defeated. “So that’s how it’s going to be,” I say. “I thought you of all people might believe me. Guess I should have known better.”

 

Adi looks taken aback at this. Even as a surly teenager, I’d never really been one to talk to her that way. But right now I don’t care. My master isn’t taking my side, and that hurts more than I’d like to admit.

 

“Siri… do you realize how much trouble you’re in?”

 

I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat. “Yes,” I say. “I know they could expel me.”

 

“So what are you going to do?”

 

I try to remember my resolutions. “I’m going to cooperate with the prosecution. I’m going to meditate on this, and show that I still deserve to be a Jedi.”

 

Adi nods, looking satisfied. “Good. I’m glad to hear you have some sense left.”

 

She turns to leave, but stops. “Oh, and by the way. The Council has been informed that you went to see Xanatos. If you’re serious about wanting to stay in the Order, you might want to refrain from doing that.”

 

“They know I visited him?”

 

“The guards have orders to report all visitors to the Council.”

 

I take a deep breath. “Okay. I won’t do it again.”

 

“You can get through this, Siri. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

 

I nod. “Thank you, Master.”

 

I don’t ask her to put in a good word for me with the Council. I’m too afraid of what her answer will be.

* * *

What I hadn’t told Adi is that being good, toeing the line, feels fake to me. It feels like an act. I know it’s what I should be doing, but it feels like I’m just going through the motions. My heart isn’t really in it.

 

I miss Xan. I want to see him. Nothing is stopping me. But if I go see him, the Council will find out about it. And that won’t look good at all. I’ll just have to get over it, get over him.

 

I spend a lot of time in meditation, mostly keeping to my quarters. Sometimes, though, I go to the meditation chambers. There’s a different sort of energy there. I stay away from the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Everyone in the Temple knows it’s where Obi-Wan fought Bruck Chun while Xanatos had the Temple under siege. I don’t need those kind of reminders right now.

 

One day I’m meditating in one of the private meditation rooms. I always choose a private room, worried I’ll have judgmental company in one of the communal rooms.

 

I come out of meditation when I hear someone enter the room. It’s Master Yoda.

 

“Sorry to disturb you, I am,” he tells me.

 

“It’s all right, Master,” I say politely.

 

“Wondering I am, what you are meditating on?”

 

“The Code.”

 

“Hmm.” Yoda looks thoughtful. “Perhaps more helpful it would be, if meditate on your particular struggles, you did?”

 

“Well, in a way I was,” I reply. “I know I’ve been a less than perfect Jedi, so I chose the Code as a subject to remind myself of what it is I should be.”

 

“Decided you have, then, that the Jedi path is right for you?”

 

“Yes, Master,” I say, a bit bewildered that he’s even asking. Isn’t that what the Council wants from me?

 

Yoda seems to know what I’m thinking. “Do what you believe is expected of you, you should not. Do what is right for _you,_ you must.”

 

Of course being a Jedi is the right choice for me. It’s what I’ve always wanted, what I’m supposed to do. “I want to be a Jedi,” I say.

 

“The path that you want to take, and the path that you are meant to take- always the same, they are not.”

 

I sigh, not quite sure what to make of this. But I know better than to ask Yoda to explain himself.

 

“Do you believe me, Master?” I ask instead. “Do you believe that the Force drew Xanatos and I together?”

 

“Hmm.” Yoda taps his stick on the floor thoughtfully. “Mysterious, the Force often is. Understand it’s workings, I do not always.”

 

“Do I follow the Force?” I ask. “Or do I follow the Code?”

 

“Your choice, that is,” Yoda replies. “Make it for you, no one can.”

 

I don’t reply, lost in thought.

 

“Leave you to your meditations, I will,” Yoda says, and leaves the room.

 

Yoda’s given me a lot to think about. I wasn’t lying when I told him I wanted to be a Jedi, but a part of me also wants to be with Xan. But that’s not even an option. It’s a momentary whim that will pass. Being a Jedi? That’s my _life._

* * *

The next day, I get called in front of the Council.

 

“The prosecution is still gathering evidence against Xanatos,” Master Windu says when I arrive. “They sent agents to Nar Shadda, looking to find documented proof that Xanatos bought slaves from Krayn. According to the Colicoids, however, all such records were wiped before they took over the operation. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

 

“No, Master,” I say, confused. Why isn’t someone from the prosecution asking me these questions?

 

“If you have any information about this, you will share it with the prosecution,” Master Windu continues. “We merely wish to ascertain that you are telling the truth.”

 

“I wouldn’t lie, Master.”

 

“You have lied to this Council before,” Master Windu says sternly.

 

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. Getting upset is not the way to go about this.

 

“I don’t know anything about the records being wiped, Masters, but it’s not surprising,” I say. “Krayn was fleeing the planet before he was killed. He may have wiped the records himself to erase any evidence of his wrongdoings. Another possibility is that the Colicoids are lying. They were working with Krayn, after all. And Obi-Wan and I had to threaten them with prosecution in order to entice them into doing the right thing. The Colicoids could have wiped the records themselves in order to cover up their own crimes.”

 

Yoda nods. “Valid possibilities, these are.”

 

“I can’t be sure what happened, Masters, but those are my best guesses.”

 

“You have no concrete evidence, then?” Master Windu asks. 

 

I frown. Hadn’t I just said it was a guess? How could I have concrete evidence, unless… My eyes widen.

 

“I didn’t delete the records!” I exclaim, realizing now what they think. They think I did it, to cover up for Xan. “I know I made a mistake getting involved with Xanatos, but I never covered anything up!”

 

“Was your failure to tell this Council about Xanatos being alive not in itself a cover-up?” Ki-Adi Mundi asks.

 

“I intend to cooperate fully with the prosecution,” I say, somewhat stiffly. “I am committed to my place in the Jedi Order. I did not wipe those records.”

 

The Council members nod. “Thank you, we do,” Yoda says. “Meet with the prosecution anyway, you should, to discuss your theories about what may have happened.”

 

So I go once again to meet with Vosk Tra’vue.

 

“How’s the evidence gathering going?” I ask him.

 

He grimaces. “It’s not easy. This guy is pretty clever. Most of the stuff he’s been doing lately is outside Republic space, so even though we’ll bring it up in the trial, we can’t prosecute him for it. And we can’t touch the son, apparently.”

 

My ears perk up at this. “Granta?”

 

“Yeah, he’s here on Coruscant now. We detained him, of course, but we couldn’t hold him on anything. Everything he’s connected to is outside our jurisdiction.”

 

I try not to smile. Granta is safe. This is way more reassuring than it should be. Has Xanatos made sure of it? Surely he must have. Maybe he does care about his son after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	12. Do You Know What I'm Seeing

_I know it’s mad, but if I go to hell_

_Will you come with me or just leave?_

_I know it’s mad, but if the world were ending_

_Would you kiss me or just leave me?_

_Just leave me!_

_-Panic At The Disco_

* * *

(Xanatos)

 

Prison is not very interesting. I’m confined to my cell most of the time, locked behind a ray shield while fitted with a Force inhibiting collar.

 

Like hell the Jedi aren’t afraid of me.

 

I’ve been here less than an hour when Siri comes to see me. It’s a disappointing confrontation. Then the Council calls her away, and she goes like a well-trained animal.

 

My next visitors, barring guards, are Yoda and Mace Windu. Mace and I are only a year apart in age, and we’d been not unfriendly rivals back in the creche. Once we were both apprenticed, we saw each other only rarely.

 

“Nice of you to show up,” I say calmly when they arrive. “Although the accommodations could be better.”

 

“How in the nine Corellian hells are you alive?” Mace growls.

 

“Temper, temper,” I chide him. “You’re on the Council now, after all. Doesn’t that mean you have to be better than us mere mortals?”

 

“Answer the question, you will,” Yoda says.

 

I shrug. “The Force kept me alive,” I tell them. “I certainly had nothing to do with it.”

 

“Qui-Gon told us he sensed your death,” Mace says.

 

“That must have been the Force, too, then,” I say nonchalantly.

 

In truth I’m hoping they won’t press me too much. I still cannot explain to this day how I survived my leap into an acid pool. I’d merely woken up beside the pool, and my former master and his annoying young apprentice had been nowhere in sight.

 

I’m not too fond of ‘it was the will of the Force’ as an explanation. But honestly, what else could it be?

 

“Tell us, you will, why you came here.”

 

“Didn’t Kenobi tell you?”

 

“Hear it from you, we will.”

 

I narrow my eyes. I’d forgotten how much I hated being ordered around by the Council.

 

“I came to visit someone. Honestly, you aren’t very hospitable.”

 

“You came to see Siri Tachi,” Mace says.

 

“That’s right,” I agree.

 

“You used the Dark Side to manipulate her into having an inappropriate relationship with you.”

 

I actually laugh out loud at this. “Is that what you think? I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t need to use the Force to manipulate women into becoming involved with me. And there was nothing inappropriate about our relationship.”

 

“She has formed an attachment to you. That is not appropriate behavior for a Jedi.”

 

“I’d question how attached she really was, given that she was lying to me the entire time.”

 

“Keeping her cover, she was,” Yoda says.

 

“Yes, well. I’m sure you’re happy about that, at any rate. Sounds like her mission was a resounding success, except for me.”

 

Mace and Yoda exchange looks.

 

“Look, did the two of you come here for a reason? Or was it just to gape at me?” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

 

“We came to inform you that we will be pursuing criminal charges against you,” Mace says. “If you need to comm your lawyer, that can be arranged.”

 

I think about it for a moment- I do of course have lawyers working for me, although I’m not sure if any of them are suited to a case like this- but it doesn’t take me long to make a decision. 

 

“No, thank you,” I say pleasantly. “I’ll be representing myself.” I can’t quite articulate why, but my instincts are telling me it’s the right thing to do. Hopefully I can trust those instincts. With this thrice-damned inhibitor on, I’m not getting even a whisper from the Force.

 

“Wise, you think that is?” Yoda asks.

 

“It’s his damn life on the line,” Mace says crossly.

 

“Eloquent as always, Mace,” I say, trying to get a rise out of him. As a child, he’d always had a fiery temper.

 

But apparently becoming a Jedi Master has cooled him off some, because he doesn’t rise to the bait, just looks at me impassively.

 

“Will you two stop staring at me?” I ask, because Mace and Yoda are doing just that. “Can’t you leave me in peace?”

 

“Wish that, do you?”

 

“I prefer solitude to the feeling of being in a fishbowl, yes.”

 

Yoda actually laughs at this, although coming from him it’s more like a cackle. “Very well. Leave you to your thoughts, we will.”

 

And with that, he and Mace take their leave.

* * *

Later that day, Siri comes to visit me again. This visit hardly goes any better than the first, and she ends up storming out on me.

 

She did, however, warn me that the prosecution was interested in going after Granta, a possibility I’d not considered. So when she leaves, I call for the guards.

 

“I need a commlink,” I tell the guard who comes to my cell.

 

“That’s not been authorized,” the guard replies. He’s male, but that’s about all I can tell in that ridiculous get-up.

 

“Mace Windu offered to let me comm my lawyer,” I say.

 

“Master Windu says you refused that offer,” the guard replies.

 

I let out a breath. “Isn’t it my right to be able to place a call? Or have the laws on the Core Worlds changed since I’ve been away?”

 

“I’ll have to check with the Council,” he says.

 

“Do so,” I instruct him. “And I could use a datapad, or something.”

 

“What for?” he asks doubtfully.

 

“I need to take some notes.”

 

The guard leaves, returning a few minutes later with a stack of flimsiplast and a stylus. He passes these through a slot in the wall, designed to let food and other items through without needing to disengage the ray shield.

 

“No datapad?” I ask.

 

“Not in high security,” he replies.

 

“What about the comm?”

 

“We’re still waiting for that to be authorized.”

 

I spread my arms, indicating the empty cells around mine. “I don’t see any other prisoners to take up your time.”

 

“The Jedi Council is very busy,” the guard says.

 

He leaves me alone again, but at least this time there’s something to do. I’d been hoping for a datapad, although if they’d given me one it almost certainly would have had the Holonet connection disabled. Still, this will suffice.

 

I begin to write, and as I do a strategy starts to form. I dare not write down all of it, in case these sheets of ‘plast should fall into the wrong hands. I wonder what information I’ll be given to prepare for the trial. I have the right to know what I’m charged with, of course, and a right to know what witnesses will be called. I can’t remember everything, though. Once I knew the Core World’s laws quite well, but it’s been a long time since I was a padawan.

 

The guard returns about an hour later, passing a commlink through the wall. “You get one call,” he says.

 

“Are you going to stand there the entire time?” I inquire.

 

He nods, crossing his arms.

 

“Fine.” I turn my back on him- not that it affords me much privacy- and punch a code into the comm.

 

I comm Jeatho and tell him my situation. “Tell Granta he’s in charge indefinitely. And tell him he is under no circumstances to come to Coruscant. I don’t want him getting caught up in this.”

 

Prynnash is outside Republic space, so as long as Granta stays there he can’t be arrested. I’m actually not certain if any charges they tried to bring against him would stick- since Granta began working for Offworld, the vast majority of our business has been outside the Republic’s jurisdiction- but I wouldn’t put it past the prosecutors to make something up.

 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Jeatho asks

 

“I suppose they might come after you,” I muse. “Perhaps you should leave the planet, just to be safe.”

 

“What about you, sir?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, hoping it’s not a lie.

* * *

The next day, I continue to strategize. I have a plan, but have yet to figure out how it can be implemented. It requires someone on the outside, and I’ve sent Jeatho away from Coruscant in a fit of magnanimity. It’s unlike me to let my better nature prevail, and the fact that it has troubles me. Surely I can’t be going soft.

 

I receive one visitor- Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 

“Come to gloat?” I ask when he appears outside my cell.

 

“Certainly not,” he replies.

 

“What are you doing here, then?”

 

A pause. “I wanted to ask you about Siri.”

 

I grin. “Ah, I see. You’re _jealous_.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Kenobi says. “I simply wondered what happened between the two of you.”

 

“Why don’t you ask her about it?” I suggest.

 

“Siri and I aren’t on the best of terms right now,” he admits.

 

“I assume I can take responsibility for that?” I say smugly.

 

Kenobi narrows his eyes slightly, but otherwise doesn’t react, which is disappointing.

 

“What do you want to know?” I ask. Not that I relish the idea of giving Kenobi any information, but prison is boring, and winding him up is a wonderful distraction.

 

“What made you interested in her?” he asks.

 

I shrug. “She’s beautiful.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

Of course it isn’t, but I don’t exactly want to admit that. “We had a similar background. I thought she’d left the Order too; that made her a rarity.”

 

Kenobi nods. “I just don’t understand why she’d be interested in _you.”_

 

“Ah, so you are jealous,” I say, smirking at him.

 

“No, I’m not,” he says patiently.

 

“I think you are. I think you’re jealous of the fact that I got to have her in ways you could only dream of.” This is a guess. Siri never actually told me if she and Kenobi had slept together, and I never asked. 

 

But I must have guessed correctly, because this makes Kenobi glare at me. “Don’t be crass,” he says.

 

I laugh. “Now you sound like a proper Jedi. Of course, if you were a proper Jedi, you wouldn’t be here.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re letting your emotions rule you,” I say. “Isn’t that against the Code?”

 

He must see my point, because he gives a short nod and leaves without another word.

 

I sigh, frustrated with myself. I’ve just driven away the best entertainment I’m likely to get.

* * *

The next day, I see absolutely no one outside of the guards. I’m fairly certain they’re supposed to let me out somewhere for an hour of exercise, but that has yet to happen. I’m removed from my cell only to be taken to a shower facility. I’m alert for any possibility of escape at these times, but they double up on guards when they take me out, and unarmed and cut off from the Force as I am, I’d have no chance against four Jedi.

 

The day after that, however, I receive some most unexpected company.

 

“I specifically left instructions for you _not_ to come here,” I say.

 

Granta gives me his most stubborn look. “I had to come.”

 

I sigh. He must have left Prynnash as soon as he heard the news of my arrest, to be here so soon. Why can’t the damn boy listen to me? “It may not be safe for you.”

 

“It’s fine,” he insists.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Actually, I do,” he tells me. “They arrested me as soon as I landed.”

 

I frown. “What?”

 

“Relax, obviously they didn’t hold me for long. Their charges wouldn’t stick, and they knew it.”

 

“You got lucky,” I say.

 

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Granta says. “I’d tell you how I managed it, but I assume it’s not safe to speak freely.”

 

“I would assume not,” I say, mind whirring. This is good. I can’t possibly tell him so, but I’m pleased now that Granta’s disobeyed me. Now I have an agent on the outside who can arrange things for me.

 

But how can I tell him my plan without any of the Jedi listening in? I hold up a finger, rotating it in a circle a few times. It’s a hand signal used to indicate being under surveillance, and it’s as clear as I dare to be. Hopefully Granta will pick up on the fact that I want him to do something about it. Assuming he remembers the signal, and assuming that he can actually manage to interfere with the surveillance itself.

 

I sigh. I’m having to put an awful lot of trust in Granta. I just wish I could have more confidence in him.

 

“You’re alright, though?” he asks. “They’re not mistreating you?”

 

“Not yet,” I say dryly. Part of me is tempted to ask him to look into the exercise situation- I can’t actually remember if I have a legal right to it on Coruscant- but that seems petty.

 

“Who’s your lawyer?”

 

“I’m not using one.”

 

Granta’s eyes widen. “Why the hell not?”

 

“I don’t need one. I have the situation well in hand.” This is not actually true, but it soon will be. I hope.

 

He groans. “Father, please. Let me get you a lawyer.”

 

“I told you, I don’t need one.”

 

“You do realize the Republic is probably going to have their best attorneys on this case?”

 

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not intimidated by the best the Republic has to offer,” I say dryly. Skilled attorneys typically wind up working for private firms, where the pay is substantial. Those employed by the Republic itself are, therefore, likely to be of a lesser caliber.

 

“What am I supposed to do if you get put in prison?” Granta asks.

 

“Not running the company into the ground would be a good place to start,” I suggest.

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says stubbornly.

 

“Not on purpose,” I drawl.

 

Granta doesn’t respond. Suddenly I remember Siri’s words: _everything he does is to try and please you._ Surely she can’t be right. Granta is an endless source of frustration. If this is him trying to please me, I shudder to think what he’d be like if he were actively trying to oppose me.

 

“Honestly, Father, what were you thinking, coming here?” he says finally.

 

“I had to see her,” I reply.

 

“Who, Zora? She’s _here?”_

 

“She told me she had left the Jedi, but that was a lie. She was working undercover the entire time. Her real name is Siri Tachi.”

 

Granta blinks at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because it wasn’t your concern.”  


Granta closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Alright, then. Now that I know you’re not being mistreated, I suppose I’ll leave you.”

 

Part of me wants him to stay, especially after yesterday’s monotony, but I’m not desperate enough to vocalize this. Instead I repeat the surveillance hand signal, giving Granta a hard look.

 

Comprehension dawns on his face, and he gives me a brief nod. Message received, then. Now I’ll have to wait and see if Granta can actually do anything about the surveillance itself. Hopefully whoever’s manning the cameras has failed to notice this little exchange.

 

“I’ll see you then,” I say.

* * *

Granta returns the next day, as promised.

 

“How are you today, Father?” he greets me.

 

“Impatient,” I say, not caring to be subtle.

 

Granta actually rolls his eyes at me before reaching a hand into his pocket and fumbling with something for a moment.

 

“There,” he says. “That should give us a few minutes.”

 

“Good,” I say. I’ll have to trust that whatever jamming device he’s obtained is functional, because it’s not likely we’ll get away with this again. “Now listen very carefully. This is what I need you to do…” Quickly, I outline my plan. I’ve barely finished when the guards rush in.

 

“Is there a problem?” I ask nonchalantly.

 

They ignore me, addressing Granta. “You need to come with us, please.”

 

He shrugs and allows himself to be led away. I can only hope he won’t be searched on the way out. Hopefully the guards are merely following standard procedure for malfunctioning surveillance equipment, and don’t actually suspect foul play.

* * *

The following day, I get more company- Yoda comes to see me, on his own this time.

 

“What do _you_ want?” I ask him suspiciously.

 

“Came to see how you were holding up, I did.”

 

“Do you care?” I challenge.

 

“My grandpadawan’s padawan, you are.”

 

Leave it to Yoda to answer a question without really answering it at all. So what if Qui-Gon was his padawan’s padawan? What does that matter?

 

Technically, Mace Windu is Master of the Order, placing him in charge of the Council. But Yoda is Grand Master of the entire Order. It must have been his decision to hold me here, and to get the Republic to press charges. Suddenly I’m furious with him.

 

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I say.

 

If this offends Yoda, he doesn’t show it. “Try, you did, but a failure, it was. Try again, would you, if you could?”

 

“Of course I would,” I say, not even needing to think about it.

 

“Even though forgive you, Siri would not?”

 

He’s right, I realize. The same impulse that kept me from killing Kenobi keeps Yoda safe as well. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to admit that. “What does that have to do with it?”

 

“Come here, you would not have, if care about her you did not,” Yoda says. “Attached to you, she is. But attached to her, you also are.”

 

“I am not,” I say, not wanting to give Yoda the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

 

At least he doesn’t call me on it.

* * *

The day after that, I receive some information about my pending trial. I’m being charged with an impressive variety of crimes. Many of them were committed outside Republic space and will be difficult to prove, let alone convince the jury to convict me of. Reading over the list, I have to admit that the Republic’s lawyers have done their job well.

 

I’m guilty of everything they’re accusing me of, but that doesn’t give me pause. I’ll be damned if I’m going to prison. I can only hope Granta has done as I instructed. My entire plan depends on him- a most disconcerting notion. If he lets me down again, as he has so many times in the past…

 

In addition to the list of charges, I receive a list of witnesses for the prosecution. These include Kenobi, Bant Eerin, and, of course, Siri. Two of Offworld’s former employees are also included, but I’m not worried about them. They’re none too savory characters and should be easy to discredit. It’s the Jedi testimony I need to be concerned with.

 

I need to figure out what questions the prosecution will be asking them, in order to prepare for my cross-examination. I’m in the middle of brainstorming this when Siri comes to visit me again.

 

I haven’t seen her for an entire standard week, I realize. It’s extremely pathetic, but I’ve missed her.

 

“What do you want?” I ask curtly, determined not to show my true feelings.

 

“I just wondered how your side of things were going,” she says.

 

“It’s a difficult and delicate situation that requires a great deal of attention.”

 

Siri doesn’t take the hint. “I hear you kept Granta out of trouble.”

 

Granta has actually kept himself out of trouble, somehow, but I’m not going to contradict her. “It was the obvious thing to do,” I say. “I’m having quite enough trouble taking care of my own predicament. Besides, I’ll need someone to run the company if things don’t turn out according to plan.”

 

“You don’t honestly think you can avoid serving prison time?” she asks somewhat incredulously.

 

“I’m certainly going to try to minimize the damage as much as possible,” I reply. Honestly, what did she expect?

 

“But after everything that you’ve _done?”_ Siri exclaims. “They’ll put you away for life!”

 

“Why were you ever with me, then, if I’m such a terrible person?” I ask curiously.

 

“I was with you because you’re not that person anymore,” she replies. “But that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to be punished for your past crimes.”

 

“Why didn’t you ever tell the Council I was alive, then?” I counter.

 

“Because I was alone,” Siri says. “I was undercover, and it was hard to handle. I needed support, so I turned to you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have turned to the support network I already had in place.”

 

“Now you’re just repeating what the Council’s told you,” I say, disgusted. There’s no sign now of the fiery, spirited woman I’ve come to know over the past year. I see just another Jedi standing before me.

 

Well, baiting Jedi just happens to be one of my favorite pastimes of late.

 

“It wasn’t the right choice to get involved with you,” Siri insists.

 

“I disagree,” I say. “The fact that you and I were together proves that you aren’t cut out to be a Jedi.”

 

“I was a _good_ Jedi before I met you,” she snaps.

 

I seem to have hit a sore spot. “Maybe you were,” I allow. “But that won’t be enough for you now. Not now that you’ve known freedom. You have too much vibrance and passion to live a serene Jedi life. After all, Jedi are forbidden to love, but you fell in love with Kenobi, didn’t you?”

 

“I let go of my love for him,” Siri says. “As is the Jedi way.”

 

“Maybe you did,” I say. “But you haven’t let go of your love for me.”

 

This is a gamble. I don’t know that she loves me. But she’d come close to admitting it once, before everything fell apart. Maybe Siri’s right. Maybe her feelings for me _weren’t_ a lie.

 

“The Jedi would have you put that love aside,” I continue. “But you can’t, and it’s killing you.”

 

It’s possible I’m projecting, here. Force knows my situation would be easier if I could get past my feelings for Siri. But I can’t, and I’m betting she feels the same way I do.

 

Judging by the look on her face, my words have hit home. But Siri only shakes her head at me.

 

“You’re delusional,” she says.

 

Siri leaves me alone after that, but try as I might I cannot concentrate on my legal strategy. She has an uncanny way of completely distracting me.

 

Once I’d told her I loved her, and I did. I loved Zora. Once I found out who she truly was, I’d no longer been sure. But now I have to admit it, if only to myself: Zora _is_ Siri. In every way that matters most, they are the same. I still love her.

 

But I can’t let myself wallow in these feelings. I have work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Forget About What I Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for The Captive Temple.
> 
> Also, surprise! Y’all get the last two chapters at once here. This is because the very last chapter is super duper short and I would feel bad posting it on its own.

_We used to tear it down_

_But now we just exist_

_The things that I did wrong_

_I’ll bet you’ve got a list_

 

_Now I know how you remember_

_And those moments that you choose_

_Will define me as a traitor_

_Stealing everything you lose_

_-The Killers_

* * *

(Siri)

 

On the day Xanatos’ trial begins, I meet Yoda, Mace Windu, and Adi outside the courtroom. I was hoping to slip in quietly, without anyone noticing me. Bad enough that I’ve gone against my resolve and visited Xan in the detention center for the third time. I have no excuse for being here today; it’s not yet time for me to testify.

 

“Masters,” I say, taking refuge in formality. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Master Windu and Adi don’t look at all amused. 

 

But Yoda, Force bless him, actually smiles at me. “Sit next to me, you may.”

 

After that, Mace Windu and my master can’t exactly criticize me for showing up.

 

We enter the courtroom. Xan’s not here yet, but I see Granta sitting on the defense’s side of the room. I do my best to avoid looking his way, wanting to avoid a confrontation.

 

After a few minutes, a pair of Temple guards bring Xanatos in. He’s unrestrained except for the Force inhibitor. He looks over the audience, and we make eye contact for a moment before I make myself look away.

 

The judge, an Ithorian named Lavar Poblic, enters the room and calls the court into session. The assembled audience and jury members obediently fall silent.

 

The prosecution presents their case first. They have a team of lawyers, represented at the trial by Vosk Tra’vue and a Twi’lek female named Elana Jure. Jure’s opening statement sets the tone for their entire case. In it, she presents Xan first as a cruel individual who left the Order for money and power. She then discusses his founding of Offworld, touching on some of its worst offenses. She makes sure to mention Xanatos’ dealings with the Hutts, and implies that Offworld may have ties to other criminal organizations as well. Then she begins to enumerate his crimes against the Order, the highlights of which are his attempts to assassinate Yoda and destroy the Temple. She paints him as a reprehensible criminal with absolutely no redeeming factors.

 

This is difficult for me to listen to. Part of me feels as though Jure isn’t treating Xanatos fairly. The rest of me, however, is uncomfortably aware that everything she’s saying is, broadly speaking, true.

 

I expect Xan’s opening statement to come next, but to my surprise he tells the judge that he is reserving this right until after the prosecution has made their case. A murmur goes through the court at this development. I glance at Yoda, Master Windu, and Adi, but their faces reveal nothing.

 

So Jure and Tra’vue call their first witness, a former Offworld employee named Sheder Dankir. When questioned by Tra’vue about Offworld’s illegal activities, he confirms the use of slave labor within Republic borders as well as the Hutt connection.

 

Then it’s time for Xanatos to question Dankir.

 

“You were engaged in a number of these illegal activites yourself, were you not?” Xanatos asks.

 

“I was,” Dankir says reluctantly. “It was the only job I could get, and I couldn’t afford to lose it, not with a family to take care of.”

 

“You were tried and convicted for your own crimes, were you not?”

 

“Crimes I never would have committed if not for you!” Dankir says angrily. “Them enforcers of yours gave me no choice.”

 

“Answer the question, please.”

 

Dankir admits that he’s currently serving out a prison sentence for the crimes he committed while in Offworld’s employ.

 

“Did the prosecution offer you a reduced sentence if you testified here today?” Xan asks.

 

Dankir looks reluctant.

 

“You need to give him an answer, Mr. Dankir,” Judge Poblic says.

 

Dankir admits that he has indeed made a deal with the prosecution.

 

“About that family of yours- you’d do anything to see them again, wouldn’t you?” Xan asks him.

 

“Objection!” Jure says. “Leading the witness.”

 

“Sustained,” Poblic rules. “Rephrase the question, please.”

 

“Very well,” Xanatos says. “What would you do to see your family again?”

 

“More’n this, that’s for sure,” Dankir replies vehemently.

 

“Even lie under oath?”

 

Dankir hesitates.

 

“That’s all right, I don’t need an answer,” Xanatos says, sounding a trifle smug. “No further questions, your honor.”

 

There’s only one more witness for the day. This man is also questioned in regards to Offworld, and his testimony goes about as well as Dankir’s. When court adjourns for the day, Jure and Tra’vue look less than pleased. Xanatos, on the other hand, looks quite pleased.

* * *

The Jedi testimony begins the next day. There was some media attention at the trial’s opening, but today there are significantly more reporters and cam-droids buzzing around outside the building. Mostly, they seem interested in Obi-Wan, who is testifying today. He and Anakin have been mildly famous since the incident on Naboo a few years ago, and today he deals with the media attention by ignoring it completely.

 

Obi-Wan, Mace Windu, Adi, Yoda, and I escape the media by entering the courtroom, where reporters and cam-droids aren’t allowed.

 

“Are you ready for this?” Master Windu asks.

 

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Obi-Wan replies. “It’s not as if I’ve never been in court before.”

 

This only serves to remind me that I actually haven’t ever been called to testify before now. On the rare cases when Adi and I had undertaken a mission that required it, she had always been the one called to the stand.

 

Court is called into session then, and the prosecution wastes no time in calling Obi-Wan forward.

 

Under their questioning, Obi-Wan relates his entire history with Xanatos, from their first meeting when Obi-Wan was thirteen- included in this are Xanatos’ multiple attempts to kill Obi-Wan and Master Jinn, as well as his attempted assassination of Yoda and his plan to destroy the Temple- to their final confrontation on Telos leading up to Xanatos’ supposed death. 

 

“And you believed him dead at this time?” Jure asks.

 

“My master told me he sensed Xanatos’ death,” Obi-Wan says. “I was certain he was gone.”

 

I remember what Tra’vue told me about the Force not selling well in court. Apparently no one’s told Obi-Wan, or if they have, he doesn’t care. Will this hurt the prosecution’s case? I glance at the jury, a diverse group of beings. Surely at least some of them are believers.

 

“And when did you next encounter Xanatos?” Jure asks Obi-Wan.

 

“I recently apprehended him inside the Jedi Temple.”

 

“Did he give a reason for being there?”

 

I brace myself, certain I’m about to hear my name.

 

But Obi-Wan surprises me. “He said he was searching for a Jedi he had recently encountered on Nar Shadda.”

 

“And why was he looking for this Jedi?”

 

“According to him, they had unfinished business.”

 

“Thank you, Knight Kenobi,” Jure says. “That will be all.”

 

“Defense, your witness,” Poblic declares.

 

As Xanatos rises and approaches the witness stand, I’m suddenly filled with a great desire to be somewhere else. I do not want to witness a confrontation between Xan and Obi-Wan.

 

“Let’s back up a little,” Xanatos says. “Tell us about Bruck Chun.”

 

I’m surprised at this line of questioning. Obi-Wan hadn’t mentioned Bruck by name during hisprior testimony, referring to him merely as an accomplice of Xanatos.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Obi-Wan replies.

 

“Who was he to you?”

 

“He was an age mate of mine when I was an initiate,” Obi-Wan replies.

 

“Were you friends?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Enemies, then?”

 

“We had something of a rivalry,” Obi-Wan allows.

 

“What happened to Bruck Chun?”

 

“He died.”

 

“How did that happen?”

 

“He fell from a height and broke his neck,” Obi-Wan says.

 

“What caused him to fall?”

 

“He slipped.”

 

“What made him slip?” Xanatos asks, unrelenting.

 

“I suppose he lost his footing,” Obi-Wan says blandly. Xanatos is obviously trying to bait him, and Obi-Wan is doing a magnificent job of not rising to it.

 

“Objection!” Jure cuts in. “This line of questioning has no relevance to the case at hand.”

 

“Overruled,” the judge says.

 

“Let me make this easier,” Xanatos says pleasantly. “Were you and Bruck engaged in any kind of activity that would have caused him to slip and fall?”

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan is forced to admit.

 

“And what activity was that?”

 

“A lightsaber duel.”

 

“So, in a way, was his death your fault?” Xanatos asks.

 

“Objection!” Jure tries again.

 

“Overruled,” says Poblic.

 

“He wouldn’t have been there if not for you,” Obi-Wan says.

 

“Ah, but you’ve already admitted that the two of you were rivals. Might you not have been fighting anyway?”

 

“Not in that location,” Obi-Wan says.

 

He doesn’t explain further, but I know he’s right. The Room of a Thousand Fountains is reserved for peaceful meditation and the like, not lightsaber duels. He wouldn’t have been fighting Bruck there if he hadn’t been trying to save Bant after Xanatos’ attempt on her life.

 

“No more questions, your honor,” Xanatos tells the judge, looking thwarted.

 

Court concludes for the day after Obi-Wan’s testimony. He, Mace Windu, Adi, Yoda, and I share an aircab back to the Temple. Upon arriving, the masters peel off to attend a Council meeting.

 

“Are you okay?” I ask Obi-Wan as we walk through the halls of the Temple. I know he blamed himself for Bruck’s death when it happened, and probably for a long time afterwards.

 

“I’m fine,” he says.

 

“Look, Obi-Wan, I wanted to apologize,” I confess. “I haven’t been treating you very well.”

 

“I accept your apology,” he replies formally.

 

“I know you’re probably still mad at me,” I say.

 

“I’m not angry with you,” Obi-Wan says calmly.

 

“I don’t get it,” I say, frustrated. “How can you be such a perfect Jedi all the time?”

 

He blinks at me. “I’m far from perfect.”

 

“Well, you’re a better Jedi than I am.” Although lately, that’s not saying much.

 

“It might look better to the Council if you didn’t go to court every day,” Obi-Wan suggests.

 

“I know it would,” I admit. “But…” I shrug, not sure how to vocalize my feelings. I need to be there. I feel like I owe it to Xan somehow.

 

We’re interrupted then by Anakin’s arrival. Obi-Wan looks at him quizzically.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” he asks his padawan.

 

“They let us out early,” Anakin says. Then he turns to me. “Hey, Siri.”

 

“Hello,” I respond.

 

Anakin glances between Obi-Wan and myself. “I’m glad you two aren’t fighting anymore.”

 

“We weren’t fighting, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “We merely had a difference of opinion.”

 

“About Xanatos?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Is it true what everybody’s saying?”

 

“What are they saying now?” I ask.

 

“That you’re in love with him,” Anakin says casually.

 

“Anakin, that’s not very polite,” Obi-Wan scolds, seeming to forget that he’d asked me the same question once.

 

“Love is forbidden,” I tell the boy.

 

Anakin frowns. “But you didn’t tell the Council he was alive. Why would you try and protect him if you didn’t love him?”

 

“That’s enough, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, sparing me the necessity of coming up with an answer. “If you don’t have class, I’m sure you have homework to do.”

 

Anakin makes a face. “Do I have to?”

 

“Yes, you do,” Obi-Wan tells him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

 

“Okay,” Anakin says glumly. “See you later, Siri.”

* * *

The next day, Bant is called to the witness stand. Under the prosecution’s questioning, she tells the courtroom about Xanatos’ attempt to kill her. Xanatos and Bruck had kidnapped her during the time Xanatos held the Temple under siege, chaining her underwater. As a Mon Calamari, she’s able to breathe underwater for an extended period of time, but eventually she must surface for air. Restrained as she had been, she had been unable to do so. Had Obi-Wan not rescued her in time, she would have drowned.

 

Hearing Bant talk about this makes me deeply uncomfortable, much more than Obi-Wan’s testimony had. She seems much more of a victim than Obi-Wan had been. Bant had been eleven years old when she was kidnapped, and had been unable to fight back. Even Bruck alone would have been too much for her- he had been very good with a lightsaber, and at the time had far outstripped Bant in that area.

 

Xanatos’ cross-examination of Bant is brief. He tries to pin most of the kidnapping on Bruck, saying it had been his idea. Knowing Bruck as I did, I have to admit that Xanatos could be telling the truth. But Bant’s testimony has made it clear that Bruck was firmly under Xanatos’ thumb at that point.

 

Remembering those days makes me uneasy. Xanatos had tried to kill Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Bant, but he had failed. Bruck Chun, however, is dead because of Xanatos’ actions. I should probably feel worse about this than I do. Bruck had been a thirteen year old initiate, and Xanatos had corrupted him to the dark side. But Bruck had been a prideful, ambitious bully in life, and I’d never liked him, despite the fact that he and his cronies had never harassed me personally. In hindsight, I think he may have had a crush on me.

 

I catch myself wondering if Bruck ever mentioned me to Xanatos, and shake my head. That line of thinking is liable to drive me crazy.

 

Bant is excused from the stand, and then it’s my turn.

 

“The prosecution calls Jedi Knight Siri Tachi to the stand.”

 

I take my seat in the witness stand, trying to calm my pounding heart. I have no reason to be nervous, I tell myself. All I have to do is tell the truth.

 

The bailiff approaches. “Please raise your hand.”

 

I raise my right hand in the air.

 

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

 

“I do so swear.”

 

“Prosecution, your witness,” Judge Poblic declares.

 

Jure comes to stand before me. “Tell us about the first time you met Xanatos Omega, Knight Tachi.”

 

“I was on an undercover mission,” I begin. “And I happened to be on Tatooine. We met by chance in a cantina.”

 

“Did he introduce himself?”

 

“No, I recognized him by the scar on his face.”

 

“I understand Xanatos has a certain reputation amongst the Jedi. Tell us about that.”

 

Why are they asking me this? “Well… we all know his story.”

 

“Tell us a little about that.”

 

Xanatos has mainly become a frightening bedtime story the initiates love to scare each other with, but I know there’s more to it than that. His is also a cautionary tale. “Xanatos was a very promising student for many years,” I say carefully. “But when the time came for him to face his trials, he failed the test, and fell to the dark side in the process. He became so far gone that he eventually tried to kill Master Yoda, and destroy the very Temple he’d grown up in.”

 

“When you first met Omega, what was your reaction once you realized who he was?”

 

“I asked him why I should have anything to do with him, after all he’d done.”

 

“So he recognized you as a Jedi?”

 

“Yes and no,” I say. “He thought I had left the Order, as he had.”

 

“Did you let him believe that?”

 

“It was part of my cover story for my mission, so yes, I did.”

 

“How much time did the two of you spend together that day?”

 

I think back. We’d had a drink, then dinner, then more drinks. By the time I returned to Krayn’s ship, it had been late.

 

“A few hours.”

 

“And what did you discuss?”

 

“We talked about our respective jobs.”

 

“And what was your cover, on this mission?”

 

“I was working for the slave trader Krayn on Nar Shadda. My mission was to infiltrate his operation and send back information.”

 

“Did Xanatos show an interest in Krayn’s operation?”

 

Finally, I see what she’s getting at. A guilty feeling stabs at me, but there’s nothing to do but tell the truth.

 

“Yes,” I reply. “He was interested in purchasing slaves from Krayn.”

 

“And did he eventually do so?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How many slaves would you say he bought from Krayn?”

 

“The original order was for two hundred and fifty.”

 

“How long did he and Krayn have a business relationship?”

 

“About a year.”

 

“And how many slaves would you say he bought during this time?”

 

I look away from Jure, guilt continuing to nag at me. Glancing around the room, I see Xanatos watching me intently. Our eyes lock, and he gives me a small nod. Immediately I look away, mind racing. What had that been about? It’s not as if I need his permission to talk about this.

 

“Several hundred,” I say finally.

 

“What did he do with these slaves?”

 

I’d always been scrupulously careful not to ask Xan about that. I really hadn’t wanted to know any details.

 

“I assume he put them to work in Offworld’s mines.”

 

“Does he have such a large operation, to need so many?”

 

He doesn’t. I remember hearing Xanatos complain more than once about the small size of the areas he was mining on Prynnash.

 

“No, he doesn’t.”

 

“Why did he need so many slaves, then?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Krayn ran his own mines on Nar Shadda, did he not?”

 

“He did.”

 

“And you were involved with those while undercover.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“So you’re familiar with this business. What would be your best guess as to why Xanatos needed so many slaves?”

 

“Probably because they were dying off,” I say reluctantly.

 

“And why might that be?”

 

“I don’t know what the conditions were like in Xanatos’ facilities,” I tell her. “But, in Krayn’s, it was usually from mistreatment, or overwork.”

 

“No further questions, your honor,” Jure says, looking satisfied.

 

“Defense, your witness.”

 

I swallow hard as Xanatos approaches, trying my best not to let my nerves get to me.

 

“Let’s go back to the night we met,” Xanatos says. “What were your first impressions of me?”

 

“Once I realized who you were, you mean?”

 

“Before that.”

 

“I thought maybe you were another Jedi working undercover.”

 

“From the first time you saw me?”

 

“No,” I admit. “I only thought that once I saw your lightsaber.”

 

“So before that, what did you think of me?”

 

“I thought you seemed familiar, somehow.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

I’m saved from answering by Jure. “Objection! This is irrelevant.”

 

“Sustained,” Poblic rules.

 

“Alright, I’ll get straight to the point. What was the nature of our relationship?”

 

Oh, Force, is he really going to make me say it in front of everyone?

 

“It was a romantic relationship,” I reply.

 

“And, as a Jedi, are you permitted to have that kind of relationship?”

 

“No.”

 

“For how long were we involved?”

 

“For a year.”

 

“And, during that time, did you ever report to anyone that I was alive?”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I believed that you had changed your ways. That you weren’t the same person who did all those terrible things.”

 

This sounds weak even to me, after all Jure had forced me to admit about Xanatos’ dealings with Krayn. He was still doing terrible things while we were together. I’d just turned a blind eye to it.

 

“Why didn’t you think I deserved to be punished for my past crimes?”

 

“I do think that.”

 

“You clearly didn’t while you were undercover, or you would have turned me in. Why didn’t you do so?”

 

“I just… wasn’t brave enough,” I say lamely.

 

“Why not?”

 

This is worse than I’d thought it would be, but there’s nothing for it. I have no choice but to tell the truth.

 

“Because I didn’t want to lose you. Because of the way I felt about you.”

 

“And do you still have those feelings?” he asks.

 

“Objection!” Jure says. “Irrelevant.”

 

But this time Poblic overrules her. “Answer the question, Knight Tachi,” he tells me.

 

How can I answer when I don’t even know what my feelings are?

 

“I don’t know,” I say.

 

Xan gives me a hard look. “I assume I don’t need to remind you that you’re under oath?”

 

“I-“ I think of how hard this has been. Sitting here, watching Xanatos on trial. Refraining from visiting him in the detention center lest the Council find out about it. Even before that, I had been dreading the end of my mission because I knew it meant I would be parted from him.

 

“Do you still have feelings for me?” Xanatos asks again.

 

“Yes.” My voice is a whisper, but it makes no difference. The microphone in front of me catches the word and amplifies it so the entire room can hear.

 

“No further questions, your honor.”

* * *

Court adjourns for the day after my testimony. I find I can barely look Adi, Master Windu, or Yoda in the eye after my admission. 

 

As soon as we step outside the building, I hear someone calling my name. I turn to see Granta barreling towards me. I quickly excuse myself and walk to meet him. Whatever he has to say, I don’t want it to be overheard by any of the masters.

 

“What do you want?” I ask shortly.  
  
“Are you pleased with yourself?” he demands.

 

“I have no reason not to be,” I say warily. “I only told the truth.”

 

“If my father goes to prison, I _will_ make you pay for it.”

 

“And how do you plan to do that?” I ask wryly. “You really think you’re any match for a Jedi Knight?”

 

Granta flinches slightly, and I feel bad. I’ve long suspected that the reason Xanatos is so hard on his son is because he’s disappointed that Granta isn’t Force-sensitive. Now I’ve gone and reminded him that I have the Force and he doesn’t.

 

“Look, Granta,” I say gently. “I understand that you’re upset. But what’s going to happen is going to happen. It’s out of our hands.”  


“You’re the whole reason he came here in the first place! He’s allowed his emotions to blind him. He never would have come to Coruscant if it hadn’t been for you.”

 

I wince. “I know. To be fair, I did want him to think Zora was dead. I suppose I just wasn’t thorough enough.”

 

I hear footsteps behind me, and turn my head. It’s Adi.

 

“Siri, we need to be getting back to the Temple,” she says.

 

“Yes, Master,” I agree, thankful for the rescue. I turn to Granta. “We can continue this tomorrow, if you really want.” Then I turn and walk away, not giving him the chance to respond.

 

When we return to the Temple, Yoda pulls me aside.

 

“Difficult for you, this is.”

 

“Yes, Master,” I reply.

 

“Meditate on your feelings, you should.”

 

“I have been. It doesn’t seem to be helping.”

 

“Once clear your feelings are, see the path you are meant to take, you will.”

 

Right now I feel the desire to confront Xan. I’m not pleased with him for toying with me like that in front of everyone. Technically there’s nothing stopping me from going to see him in the detention center- nothing except my desire to put on a good face for the Council.

 

“I know what I have to do,” I tell Yoda. “I have to put my feelings for Xanatos aside.”

 

“The Jedi way, that is. So sure you are meant to be a Jedi, are you?”

 

“It’s my life, Master.”

 

“Tell you what to do now, no one can,” Yoda says. “Your own counsel you must follow.”

 

He leaves me then. Now I’m more confused than ever. I know what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to remain a Jedi.

 

Aren’t I?

* * *

The next day, it’s time for the defense to make their case.

 

Xanatos delivers his opening statement. In it, he talks a lot about the statute of limitationsregarding his past crimes and the fact that many of his more recent ones- including everything I’d testified about- took place outside Republic space. Even as he outlines his case, I fail to see how he thinks he can get away with it all. There are still plenty of crimes the Republic can pin on him.

 

Xan only calls one witness: Granta, who I’m sure would be glad to lie under oath if his father asked it of him. I just hope neither one of them is that stupid.

 

Xanatos questions Granta about Offworld and its business practices. Granta confirms that for as long as he’s been working for the company- which apparently began when he was twelve, during school breaks- every aspect of their business has taken place outside the boundaries of the Republic.

 

When it’s the prosecution’s turn to question him, they do their best to get him to contradict himself, but he comports himself well and refuses to give them what they want.

 

Now it’s time for closing statements. The prosecution tells the jury that they must find Xanatos guilty based on his crimes against the Order, if for no other reason.

 

Then it’s Xanatos’ turn to address the jury. He talks again about the fact that the Republic has no authority to convict him of anything taking place outside its borders. Then, to my surprise, he brings me up.

 

“After all, if a Jedi Knight believed me to be reformed, surely that counts for something.”

 

Xanatos finishes his statement, and the trial officially concludes. It’s late, so the jury deliberation won’t begin until tomorrow. Once they’ve decided, court will re-adjourn for the verdict and sentencing.

 

To my surprise, the jury finishes their deliberations the next day. I get a comm from Yoda telling me they’ve made their decision. 

 

“Wish to be there for the verdict, do you?”

 

“Yes, Master,” I reply gratefully.

 

Yoda and I head back to court, along with Adi and Master Windu.

 

Judge Poblic calls the court into session, then the jury files in.

 

“Have you reached a verdict?”

 

“Yes, your honor,” the foreperson replies.

 

The judge begins the read the list of Xanatos’ crimes, asking how they have decided on each one. To my shock, the jury acquits him on all counts except for a few minor ones related to Offworld’s affairs. He’s found not guilty on all the big charges, including his crimes against the Order.

 

A murmur goes through the audience as the verdict is read, making Judge Poblic call for order. He then excuses the jury, and they exit the room.

 

“Xanatos Omega, please stand,” Poblic says.

 

Xanatos does so.

 

“You have been found guilty of crimes against the Republic. I hereby sentence you to three years imprisonment. Do you wish to make a statement?”

 

“No, your honor.”

 

“Very well. Court adjourned.” The judge bangs his gavel, and just like that, the trial is over.

* * *

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Mace Windu is fuming as we leave the courtroom.

 

“How can they have found him not guilty?” he asks. “Obi-Wan’s testimony alone should have been enough to convict him!”

 

“Slippery, Xanatos has always been,” Yoda says. “But escape all punishment, he has not.”

 

“Three years is hardly sufficient punishment for the crimes he’s committed,” Master Windu says.

 

We take an aircab back to the Temple, and as soon as we arrive I excuse myself. Hating myself, I head for the detention center. I know I shouldn’t do this, but I just have to talk to Xan.

 

He’s already been placed back in his cell by the time I get there.

 

“How the hell did you get off so easy?” I demand.

 

“I hardly call that getting off easy,” Xan replies.

 

“You only got three years!” I exclaim.

 

He gestures to the Force inhibitor around his neck. “You do realize that they’re not going to take this off? I’m going to be cut off from the Force for _three years._ I consider that cruel and unusual punishment.”

 

“How did you get away with it?” I demand. “Did you bribe the jury?”

 

“I’m not likely to admit to that, am I?”

 

That must be what he’s done. He always has a way out, after all. I wonder why they didn’t acquit him of everything. He seems upset, so that must not have been part of the plan.

 

“I could just go ask Granta,” I say, certain that he must be in on it.

 

“I rather doubt he’d tell you anything,” Xan says.

 

“I could make him tell me.”

 

He smirks. “That’s hardly the Jedi way, now is it? Speaking of which, has the Council decided your fate yet?”

 

“No, not yet.”

 

“Well, if they expel you, you can always come and work for me.”

 

He’s made this offer before, but that’s when he thought I was Zora. I’m surprised to hear him make it now.

 

“I would _never_ work for a company as corrupt and destructive as Offworld,” I reply scathingly.

 

“Actually, I’ve been thinking it’s time for Offworld to become a legitimate business enterprise,” Xan says offhandedly. “You could be a big help with that.”

 

_“You’re_ going to go legit?” I ask, astonished.

 

“I want to expand into Republic space. To do that, I’ll have to follow Republic law.”

 

“Have you told Granta yet?”

 

“Don’t worry, Granta will do whatever I tell him. So, what do you say?”

 

“I’ll have to think about it.”

 

“Consider it an open offer,” Xan says.

 

Bewildered, I thank him and take my leave.

* * *

A week later, Xanatos is transferred from the Temple’s detention center to the penal colony on Uocarro, a notoriously strict prison world. According to Temple gossip, he’ll be placed in solitary confinement under maximum security, and won’t even be permitted visitors.

 

I manage to refrain from visiting him again, although I do go out to the landing platform to watch the guards load him into the shuttle that will take him to the ship bound for Uocarro. A small crowd has gathered, so I’m not too conspicuous. Xan’s eyes sweep over the crowd when they bring him out, and he actually smiles at me when his eyes meet mine.

 

I decide to go back to my quarters and meditate, something I’ve been doing a lot lately. But I can’t focus. I’ve got too much on my mind, although my anxiety has been much decreased since the prosecution declared that they wouldn’t be bringing charges against me.

 

Three years isn’t such a long time, I muse. I could see Xan again once he’s out of prison. But not if I’m going to remain a Jedi.

 

He asked me to work for him. I could do a lot of good helping Offworld become a legitimate buisiness, but obviously I could do more good as a Jedi. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that Xan needs me as much as I need him.

 

Finally I sink into meditation, feeling the currents of the Force around me. I reach my mind out towards the future, though foresight has never been one of my strengths. Maybe if I can catch a glimpse of what’s to come, I’ll know what I should do.

 

All I manage to see is a brief image of a young woman with red hair. She’s not dressed in Jedi robes, nor does she visibly wear a lightsaber. From the sense I get of her in the Force, however, she feels more or less like a Jedi. She looks young enough to be a padawan, though she wears no braid. She’s talking and laughing with a blond-haired man who looks to be about her same age.

 

I shake my head. As far as visions go, that one isn’t very useful. It seems that the girl I’d seen is a Jedi, but as far as my future is concerned… does seeing Jedi in my future mean I’m supposed to stay with the Order?

 

I sink down deeper, looking for more clues. Yoda’s voice echoes in my head: _The path that you want to take, and the path that you are meant to take- always the same, they are not… Once clear your feelings are, see the path you are meant to take, you will._

 

My feelings are clear, but I’m filled with doubt. I can put my feelings for Xan aside, surely. I’ve done it before. But what I feel for him is so much more than what I’d felt for Obi-Wan. With Obi-Wan, we’d known that following the Code was the only way. We’d both wanted to be Jedi so badly. But with Xanatos…

 

I remember my knighting, the moment I’d been dreaming of all my life. I’d felt so lost and alone, despite having attained my life’s ambition.

 

I continue to meditate. I don’t know how long it takes, but finally the path before me becomes clear.

 

My comm signals then, drawing me out of meditation.

 

“Siri? It’s Adi,” my master says. “The Council needs to see you. They’ve made a decision.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” I reply.

 

I stand, stretching my legs. I feel totally at peace for the first time since I met Xan. Since before that, really. I exit my quarters, heading for the Council chambers. I can’t keep them waiting. The Council has made their decision.

 

And I’ve made mine.


	14. So Hard To Find My Way

_You can say what you want_

_You can do what you do_

_But sometimes some things are chosen for you_

_The life that you want and the life you’ve been given_

_Are sometimes not even the life you’ve been living_

_-Jackie Greene_

* * *

(Xanatos)

 

I’ve been confined in this place for three years. My cell is in the high security block of the prison, and I’m kept in solitary confinement. Once a day they let me out for an hour of exercise and a shower, but they clear the corridors at this time so I don’t encounter any other prisoners. I speak only to the guards, except for four times a year when I’m allowed a fifteen minute conversation with Granta, audio only. Through these conversations, I manage to keep an eye on the company, which it seems he hasn’t run into the ground yet. I’m permitted no visitors.

 

I’m still cut off from the Force, as I have been ever since I was arrested in the Temple. But today, that will change. Today, they’re letting me out.

 

The guards come to fetch me after midday meal, which I can’t eat a bite of. Getting to eat decent food is one of the things I’m most looking forward to when I get out of here.

 

I’m led to the intake area of the prison and told to strip. I do so, modesty gone after having had to shower with an audience for three years. The guards take my prison jumpsuit and return my clothes to me. I dress slowly, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

 

Then they return my personal effects- including my lightsaber, which I’d been mostly convinced I was never going to see again. I clip it onto my belt; its weight is familiar and comforting.

 

The very last thing they do is remove the Force inhibiting collar. Feeling the Force again is like having a vital sense I thought was lost forever come back to me. I reach into the Force and feel something nearby, a familiar presence. But that can’t be. I know Granta has come to pick me up, but what I sense is clearly another Force sensitive. Perhaps the Jedi have sent a spy to keep an eye on me? But surely, a spy would mask their presence in the Force.

 

The guards make me sign some paperwork, and then I’m a free man. I walk out of the prison doors, and there, on the landing platform outside the walls, is my own ship, waiting for me.

 

I exit the compound and approach the landing platform. Granta is waiting for me on the ship’s ramp.

 

“It’s good to see you, Father,” he says.

 

“I hope you haven’t been flying my ship in my absence,” I reply.

 

Granta gets a pinched look on his face. “No, I haven’t. It just seemed like you might like to be picked up in it.”

 

“That was a good idea,” I allow. It’s more consideration than I would expect from him.

 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Granta says.

 

I begin to board the ship then, but Granta stops me. “I have to tell you something.”

 

I sigh. “I want off this rock,” I tell him. “Whatever it is can wait.”

 

I walk up the ramp then, intending to go to the cockpit and fly us back to Prynnash. On the way, I must pass through the ship’s lounge. What I find there stops me in my tracks.

 

“That would be what I wanted to tell you,” says Granta from behind me.

 

But I barely hear his words. I can only stare at Siri standing before me. I really hadn’t expected to see her again. Now I know what it was I’d sensed.

 

There can only be one reason she’s here. “I supposed they expelled you from the Order, then?” I ask, somehow managing to keep my voice steady.

 

“No, actually,” Siri replies. “They said I could stay.”

 

I frown. She’s not dressed in Jedi robes, nor is she carrying a lightsaber. “So what are you doing here?”

 

“I decided to leave the Order,” she tells me.

 

Interesting. “I see. You leave just in time for me to get out of prison?”

 

“She left three years ago,” Granta says, shocking me into silence. “She’s been working for Offworld, helping us go legit. We’re nearly there now. We just need to settle the last of our debts with the Hutts.”

 

I don’t know how to respond to this.

 

“Granta, would you give us a minute?” Siri asks.

 

“I’ll go get us prepped for takeoff,” Granta says.

 

“Why did you leave the Order?” I ask her when Granta is gone.

 

“Because I love you,” Siri says easily.

 

Again, I’m left speechless.

 

“Why the hell did Granta never tell me about this?” I manage.

 

“I asked him not to. Besides, he said when the two of you talked you never let him get a word in edgewise.”

 

I dismiss this. Granta should have made me listen, for something so important. “Why did you ask him not to tell me?”

 

“It didn’t seem right for you to find out secondhand,” Siri said. “I wanted to do this in person.”

 

Granta’s voice comes over the intercom then. “Strap in, you two. We’re taking off.”

 

We do so, winding up next to each other, strapped into the lounge chairs. I can’t get Siri’s words out of my mind.

 

“You love me?” I ask.

 

She nods. “Don’t you love me, too?”

 

I struggle with myself for a moment. “I’m still angry with you for lying to me. It’s going to take me a long time to get over that.”

 

“That’s understandable,” Siri replies. “But you do love me, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” I admit. “I do.”

 

“I want to be with you,” she says.

 

“I want that too.” It’s astounding how easily the words come to me. I’d been certain, these past three years, that I would never see Siri again. She would continue being a Jedi, and I would go back to running Offworld. Now I’m being offered a different future, and I’m seizing it without hesitation.

 

The ship must exit the atmosphere then, because I hear the hum of the hyperdrive kicking in. It’s now safe to unstrap ourselves. We both do so, stand, and go straight into each other’s arms.

 

I hold Siri close, unable to believe how lucky I am. I’ve never been in love before, and when I’d found out Siri’s true identity, I’d thought we would never be together again. I certainly never expected her to leave the Order for me. Yet here we are.

 

I reach into the Force, and find it practically singing with rightness. It looks like Siri was right all along. This truly is the will of the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you x10000 to everyone who’s come along with me so far. I love you all.
> 
> The series is not over! I have a one-shot midquel that will come next, and then we’ll get to the multi-chapter sequel. There’s only one difficulty- I’m not actually done writing the midquel yet. I did have it finished, but then I realized I had to rewrite half of it. I’m fairly close to being done, though, and I’m aiming to have it posted within two or three weeks. Please subscribe to the series if you’d like to be notified when the next installments are up.


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